The Eye of the Storm
by Not A Fake Name
Summary: When dragons attack the land of Skyrim, Sheogorath, formerly the Champion of Cyrodiil, returns to save it. She and the Dragonborn will join forces to defeat Alduin. The two will be found in the calm center of the chaotic storm that threatens to consume Tamriel. Includes many OCs who join their group. See profile for info on triggers.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: A Brand New Adventure

Vorald was home. He hadn't been to Skyrim in years, and he had genuinely missed the beauty of the land. The Nord gazed across the southern forests of his homeland, taking in everything, the sound of the birds chirping, the sunlight reflecting off a distant lake, the trees swaying in the breeze, and the frigid chill permeating the air. As he walked across the road that would eventually take him out of the southern mountain ranges and into Falkreath Hold, he almost absorbed the feel of the forests, completely taken with their natural beauty like he was as a child.

Around midday, Vorald found himself in a clearing, ready to break for a noon meal and a much needed rest. As he sat against a tree, facing away from the clearing, he heard someone muttering to themself, drawing closer. Eventually the voice stopped in the middle of the clearing, but Vorald's back was still turned to the woman.

"Gods, it is so cold here! Why didn't anyone warn me that it would be cold in Skyrim? I should have Haskill quartered for his negligence. I'm going to need to make myself a fire first, then maybe I can kill some fluffy bunnies. That usually makes me warm and fuzzy, so it should make the cold go away. And fire! Double banish cold. Oh, and if I cook the bunny, I can get rid of the irrational hunger that shouldn't even exist right now. And it'll be warm. Even more getting rid of cold! Yes, the only question now is whether or not it will be _enough_ to make me warm, or only slightly less cold. And then I-"

"Really? You didn't know it would be cold in _Skyrim?!_ There are songs written about how cold it is here. The cold is legendary." He interjected into her little tirade. Partly because he wanted to know why she came to Skyrim, and partly because he didn't think she'd shut up unless he interrupted.

"Oh! Hello there! It's not nice to surprise people, most people who do that to me end up dead. But you seem all right so I'll let you live. For now. Anyways, come out where I can see you. Please?" Vorald did as she asked and stepped into the center of the clearing, albeit with one hnd on the hilt of his battleax. She was an Imperial woman clad in daedric armor with a daedric bow slung across her chest. She appeared to be five feet, ten inches, and didn't look like she was capable of carrying the armor she wore. She had a dagger strapped to her thigh, and a peculiar looking walking stick lying on the ground near her. She had midnight black, shoulder length hair, which was braided to keep it from falling into her face. However, the strangest thing about this woman was that her eyes, mostly a bright green color, had golden streaks running through the iris, and the pupil itself seemed to glow with a white light. 'What in Oblivion?' Vorald thought, but just as quickly as they made eye contact, the glow vanished.

"Anyways, in answer to your question, yes, I did know it would be cold here. I just didn't imagine it would be this bad. Seriously, how do people even live here?"

"Hmph. Bloody Imperials. If you think this is bad you should see what it's like in Winterhold or the Pale."

She made a very sour face, "You mean there are places in Tamriel which are colder than here? Damnit! Oh and I'll try not to take offense to that comment about my race."

Vorald at least managed to appear sheepish, "Sorry, I didn't even think about what I was saying before I stuck my foot in my mouth. And yes, these places are much, much colder. As in, 'never-ending-winter' cold. As in, 'even-the-Nords-hate-it' cold."

She looked up at him, "Ah, fuck. That really blows." She looked over his shoulder, and immediately whipped out her bow, drew an arrow, and shot in Vorald's direction in one fluid motion. However, she hadn't even touched him. When he got his heart rate under control, he turned around to see her kneeling in the ground next to a newly dead rabbit, skinning it. Vorald noticed that she had shot the rabbit clean through the eye socket, and even through his rising anger was able to feel a deep level of respect for this mysterious woman. Then the anger of nearly being impaled returned.

"What in Oblivion was that?! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!" Vorald unconsciously began drawing his battleax.

"Except I didn't. I'd advise you to put the weapon down before I have to kill you. It would be such a damn shame if you died right here. Besides, you should be thanking me, now we can have some fluffy bunny stew."

"We?"

"Yes. I like you. And I'm on vacation. And vacation is no fun unless you spend it with exciting people going off on adventures. I'm still hoping to see a dragon at some point."

"You're insane."

She surprised him by rearing back and laughing. A pure, unrestrained laugh born of genuine amusement. When her giggling subsided, she picked up the skinned rabbit, turned to face him, and built a small fire which she lit with magic. She began roasting the rabbit. Throughout this whole process she continued speaking with him. "Right. I'm insane. The sky is blue. Trolls are generally angry because nobody loves them. And dremora are whiny little bitches with a secret love of ballet. What else is new?"

"At any rate, dragons are extinct, and I hear you have to go to Akavir to even hope to find one. There are certainly no dragons in Skyrim, there haven't been for several eras." Vorald informed her.

"As far as anybody knows."

"Please don't tempt fate."

She mock gasped, "I wouldn't be the one doing the tempting. By the way, I don't believe I ever caught your name."

"No. You didn't."

"Oh come on! Don't be a little bitch about it."

He snorted, "Vorald. Speaking of which, why do you assume I'm exciting? We've only just met."

"You have a destiny, more than that, I can't say, although there will be plenty of hints. How do you think the world would taste? Oh, you can call me Cassandra. However, I find that name horribly dull on occasion, I prefer the Lord Prince of Darkness. Wait, Nocturnal might be upset if I use that title. Uhhhmmmm…. Oh! I got it! Lord Prince of Cheeses! Yes, much better. You may refer to me as the Lord of Cheese."

"Right, so, Cassandra."

She sighed, "Very well, you may call me Cassandra."

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, you following me. I have a feeling you'll drive me crazy."

"And what's wrong with a little crazy? It'll be good for you. And you don't exactly have a choice. Besides, you need my help to survive the coming shitstorm. Oh! The fluffy bunny is done, want a bite?"

Vorald considered the pros and cons before he heaved a massive sigh and took the food from her. "I'm probably going to regret this later. Very well. You can travel with me."

They returned to the road in a few minutes. For the rest of the day Cassandra droned on and on, unceasingly. She wasn't even really trying to engage Vorald in conversation, just fill the empty space. They reached a new clearing a short time before sunset, and Vorald set the camp while Cassandra said something about "Going out to kill some innocent woodland critter for us to eat. Be back soon!" As he sat in front of the campfire, he thought about the woman he'd met, and her several warnings of something bad coming soon. Somehow, he didn't doubt she was telling the truth, and it filled him with a dread that kept him from being able to relax. He heard something moving through the treeline, and picked up his axe, but it turned out to just be Cassandra carrying a few rabbits.

"I couldn't find anything bigger. Sorry."

"Listen, I've been meaning to ask you what you meant earlier by all of your warnings."

"Can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It would piss off a lot of people much more powerful than I am. Well, one people. But that's irrelevant. Still can't help you. You'll have to wait a few days to find out."

Vorald sighed heavily. He'd had a feeling it wouldn't have worked but there was always that hope, and now he just felt weary and weighed down by the specter of the knowledge. "After I eat I think I'm going to turn in. Can you take first watch?"

"I can take both watches, if you want."

"I can't possibly ask you to sacrifice your sleep."

"It's fine, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway."

"No, it would be stupid to have you potentially fall asleep during your watch, and definitely be dog tired for the next day with no sleep.

The corner of her lip quirked upwards. "I haven't slept in a month Vorald. Really, I don't need sleep, it's no trouble at all. Or maybe it was an hour? My memory gets horribly fuzzy sometimes."

"Good Gods woman! A month! What are you made of to stay alert uninterrupted for that long!" For some reason Cassandra found this statement to be unbelievably funny. She burst out into raucous, uproarious laughter and fell off the seat she'd taken on a nearby log and began rolling around in the dirt. Vorald was confused, and slightly upset. "What, was it something I said?" Amazingly, this made her laugh even harder, and she started rolling around faster. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to five minutes, her laughter subsided, and she got up. "Yes Vorald, it was something you said." This brought her into a new fit of giggles.

Vorald sighed, he seemed to be doing that a lot around her, and got up. He walked over to his tent and shot a rude gesture in her direction before calling out goodnight. Yet he couldn't get to sleep easily, the sense of dread never leaving him.

A/N

This is my first fanfiction I've written. Bear with me, it's probably less than amazing in many areas, but I really hope that all of you actually enjoy it and that my narration style isn't too annoying/boring, as I tend to gloss over events that aren't dialogue with minimal description. I'll try to work on it.

Anyways, I need to make a couple shout outs to J. Applegate and FirenIce 15, and their respective stories The Nerevarine Returns and Through the Portal. I'll be borrowing many of the abilities of Through the Portal's Sheogorath for mine, and the idea for a few of my OCs come from The Nerevarine Returns. Granted, my characters are definitely my own, and I'm hoping to create an original plot that deviates from either of these two wonderful author's and barely clings to the canon itself. Speaking of which, I have a ton of OCs. The characters are set up like a Dragon Age-esque style eclectic band of highly skilled warriors from across Tamriel with a wide variety of talents. Furthermore, none of my OC's except for Cassandra and Vorald are from the games. I know The Listener, The Guildmaster, The Arch-Mage, The Harbinger, and the Dragonborn traveling together make a good story, or at least a few of them getting involved, but I don't want to do that. I started writing this story because Cassandra got in my head and begged to be written, but I decided that if I was going to do it that there needed to be more people to their team than just these two, and then I decided that if I was going to bring in more characters that they would have to be very unique, from each other and from what other people have done, for my own sense of individuality. I know that sounds hypocritical as this is fanfiction, but it really would feel wrong if I did something I saw somewhere else, like plagiarism almost, in my subconscious opinion. I also now have a variety of perspectives to call upon, and nearly endless conversation starters from one person wanting to know more about another, kind of in the spirit of the Dragon Age party banter.

Anyways, here's what happened in each guild before the events of the story occurred. Karliah has her revenge but the Guild recruit has been killed at Mercer's hand, leaving Brynjolf as Guildmaster and space for a new nightingale. The Guild has been restored to Nocturnal's favor and is on the rise. The Dark Brotherhood has been culled, but Nazir, The Listener, and Babette have relocated to Dawnstar. There they have taken several recruits and have become a force to be reckoned with in Skyrim, spreading across Tamriel again very slowly. The Listener and the new Black Hand are untouchable, and hidden, even from the Brotherhood itself, so well that none of the characters will ever deal with him, or meet him. The College of Winterhold has found the Eye of Magnus, but the person at the center of the events got bored and left Skyrim to study and practice foreign magic. The Circle has found the cure to lycanthropy, but they have chosen to embrace the beast. Everyone is given the choice of becoming a werewolf when joining the Circle, and if they refuse or if they take the cure they become a veteran companion, free of the Beast. No new companion filling the pc's place in the Circle at all. The Dawnguard has destroyed Harkon, but other vampire lords created by Harkon are still out there.

One more thing, I never actually played Oblivion, so there won't be any kind of flashbacks. Also, this will be covered in exposition in far more detail, but Cassandra never rose through the ranks of any of the Guilds while the Champion of Cyrodiil, mainly so I don't have to worry about planning a confrontation between the Night Mother and her wayward Listener, or the return of the Gray Fox to a greatly diminished guild, etc.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: A Good Old Fashioned Execution

"Vorald wake up!" Cassandra cried out. There were a group of imperial soldiers closing in on their position, with weapons drawn. The message was clear. The sun was cresting the horizon, and dawn was close to breaking, but it was still dark enough she wouldn't have been able to see or hear the men coming if it wasn't for her super human senses. One of the many perks from being Sheogorath. She wasn't worried for herself, no, far from it. But the only Dragonborn of this era wasn't immortal, and she also couldn't allow her secret to get out so quickly. Even though she had come to Skyrim mostly to be a part of the whirlwind, it was undeniable that she had a duty to the Blades, the order she once belonged to, and nearly gave her life for, to protect Vorald. Not to mention Talos.

"Mmmhhm."

"Wake up you lazy ass! We're under attack!"

"Wha… WHAT!"

She started shooting arrows into the crowd of soldiers slowly closing in and shutting off escape routes. There was nothing she could do either. If this were Oblivion she could unleash any punishment of her choosing against any stupid enough to challenge her. But this wasn't Oblivion, and she couldn't. Gods, why hadn't she learned more mundane skills during her two hundred twenty five years that would be better equipped to dealing with a large crowd? She was going to be overwhelmed very soon and there was nothing she could do about it because the only offensive, un-daedric magic she had access to was a very weak flame spell she had nicknamed Embers for its potency. She was far from a weak fighter, in fact, she was vastly superior to every soldier against her, but their numbers were simply too great. She couldn't fight off fifty legionnaires at once without area of effect attacks. Even if Vorald would hurry his lazy ass up there was little chance of escape.

As if on cue, Vorald came rushing out of the tent, barely clothed and unarmored, and picked up his battleax. The Nord was tall, he must have been six feet, but was now leaning in a combat crouch. His Nordic features assessed the battlefield, his blond hair and scruffy beard blowing in the wind. His sky-blue eyes took quick stock of the situation and he began fighting. She had already killed thirteen soldiers before they had closed with her, aiming for the throats, and he began cutting into them, his heavy ebony battleax crumpling their leathers and steel plate. He was good, but he too would be overwhelmed soon, he already had several cuts and bruises along his bared biceps that she could see, and Gods knew how many she couldn't.

There were a total of twenty-two dead when a pommel strike to the head put Vorald out of commission. Cassandra winced, she'd suffered injuries like that when she was mortal, and did not envy the man's headache. There was only one hope if she wanted to make sure both she and Vorald survived. She reached out with her power into the minds of the sociopaths (there were always at least a few mildly sociopathic people in the army) as they would be the best equipped to fulfill her immediate desire. She went in and altered the people's thoughts, making them into full on lunatics. She didn't enjoy dominating other people, it reminded her too much of that bastard Molag Bol, but she couldn't allow Vorald to be killed or captured. Besides, these people would be dead soon anyway, the method of their death didn't matter so much in the grand scheme of things.

The lunatics turned upon their fellow soldiers, and began hacking them to pieces, laughing maniacally. Cassandra used the temporary reprieve to retrieve the Wabbajack from where it lay, and turned to use it on the crowd, she might actually have a chance at emerging unscathed if she could just get to her damn staff! As she bent over to retrieve the staff, one of the soldiers barreled into her from behind and pinned her to the ground. 'NO! I was so FUCKING close!' She thought as she watched, helplessly, as the last of the lunatics was cut down and they began binding her wrists. She was a God and there was nothing she could do. There were only twenty-two left of the fifty who had laid the ambush. All things considered, it wasn't bad, but she had still failed, and she couldn't shake that feeling. She hadn't failed since Martin Septim had died.

The soldiers also bound Vorald, and carried both of them to a wagon train top full of prisoners, all wearing the same type of armor, a uniform then. The rest of the soldiers carried the pair's equipment down and placed it into one of the carts. One of them began speaking to his superior officer. "Captain, this is all of their equipment here, we should check it into the armory in Helgen's Keep when we stop there, some of its pretty high quality stuff."

"Understood Recruit. Where is the rest of your unit?"

A haunted look crossed the young soldier's face. "They were killed Captain. These two are much tougher than they look. It's a miracle we didn't lose more. And, in the middle of the fight, the strangest thing happened. Two of our own men turned their blades against us, creating chaos and more loss of life. I don't know what came over them ma'am, but it wasn't right." Cassandra allowed a brief smirk to cross her face.

The Captain appeared surprised at the report, but quickly recovered, and then her look hardened. "Very well. We'll need a more formal debrief soon, but in the meantime, dismissed."

"Captain, there is one other thing. This staff we found near where the woman was eventually brought down. It's unlike anything we've ever seen." A man walked over, wearing much fancier and higher quality armor than the rank-and-file. So he was some kind of officer then. He appraised the Wabbajack quickly, his eyes widened slightly then returned to their hard edge almost immediately. He turned and spoke in a deep staccato voice, "It's the Wabbajack, the daedric artifact most often associated with Sheogorath. It means that one or both of the new prisoners is Sheogorath's mortal champion." Cassandra wasn't sure if she should be impressed or insulted, so in other words, she was having a normal moment of indecision. One of the more infuriating things about being Sheogorath.

"Yes sir, General Tullius. Do you wish to have the staff studied?" The Captain asked.

"No. It will probably be recalled to Oblivion when the owner is killed during the execution. We should keep everyone as far from it as we possibly can. I don't need anyone going insane from prolonged contact to the Mad God's presence."

"Understood, sir."

Wait a minute. EXECUTION! Things were going pear-shaped very fast. If she didn't act quickly the Dragonborn would be dead, and everyone would know that she was no longer human. She was starting to feel really agitated as the wagons began rolling, and she turned that agitation towards loosening her wrists, but the bonds were simply too tight. She was so focused she entirely missed Vorald waking up and speaking with the man across from him. He looked quite a bit like Vorald himself, and was talking about the failures of the Empire and what he and his people, the Stormcloaks, were doing. Cassandra knew nothing about any of this, and didn't much care. All she needed to know was that the Thalmor were evil. However, she was drawn out of her task when she heard the man, Ralof, shout something about a man named Ulfric Stormcloak being there and everyone showing him the proper respect. She didn't know or care who Ulfric happened to be, and went back to attempting to loosen the binds. As they rolled into the village a sense of panic set over her. She hadn't made any tangible progress with the binds, and they were nearing the end of the road. She heard one of the men begin praying to every Aedra he could think of, and she snorted. The Gods were right here and they were powerless.

"What? Do you not believe in the Gods?" The man who'd just rediscovered religion on the doors of death claimed.

"No, I know the Gods are real. I also know they will not help you. The Aedra refuse to intervene, believing mortals should deal with their own problems, and the Daedra refuse to intervene for a different reason. They simply do not care, and only seek to get involved if it benefits them."

"And what of Talos who created the Empire? What of Akatosh who ended the Oblivion Crisis? What of Kyne who granted the power of the Voice to mortals?" This from Ralof, who had interrupted stories of his childhood shared with Vorald, intermixed with a few messages of hatred for the Empire..

"Talos is a different story, always has been. Akatosh is a useless prick, and very likely the reason Talos hasn't kicked the Thalmor's collective asses yet. It's his policies that ensure the Aedra are not in the lives of mortals. I wouldn't know about Kyne, I thought Paarthurnax was the one who gifted mortals with the Voice."

"You speak as though you can understand them." Ralof said incredulously. Cassandra merely smiled and went back to loosening her bonds.

The carts rolled to a stop, and the legion began calling names to the block. First Ulfric, then Ralof, as well as several others. Eventually, they were left with only her and Vorald. Cassandra had a contingency, but it would be more effective in revealing her daedric nature than running to the rooftops and shouting, "I AM SHEOGORATH, PRINCE OF MADNESS! BRING ME YOUR CHEESE OR I WILL REDUCE YOU TO PILES OF JELLY BEANS AND ALLOW THE BIRDS TO FEAST!" (Nobody would be properly intimidated unless the threats were sufficiently creative.)

"Stop Captain. These two aren't on the list. You there, who are you?" Oh _wonderful_ it was the same bitch captain as before. The name reader gestured towards Vorald, who immediately gave his name. He then turned to her, and she gave him her birth name of Cassandra Titanilius. It looked like the name reader was about to let them go, and Cassandra was elated she wouldn't have to reveal anything today, but then the bitch intervened and crushed that hope. They were directed towards the headsman's block, but as they were walking the praying man decided to make a run for it. He was shot down. Cassandra gave a low whistle. That was a fairly impressive shot, nearly half as good as hers would have been (that is to say, he was an exceptional archer, while she was a master.) They arrived at the block, and the priestess the Legion had summoned attempted to give the condemned last rites, but the condemned wouldn't hear of it. Cassandra smirked at his audacity, interrupting the funeral with, "For the love of Talos let's get this over with. I haven't got all day." She was sure Talos was laughing himself into a fit in Aetherius. Shit, Talos. He'd be upset about what she was about to do.

The Legion began making heads roll when they finally called Cassandra up. That bitch had addressed her as "Next! The Daedra worshipper!" Honestly, it's not like she prayed to Mehrunes Dagon just because she happened to use the best armor she had. They'd never bothered to remove her armor, probably because it wouldn't stop a headsman's axe, as she didn't have a helmet, and they believed her unarmed since they had taken all of her weapons and equipment.

She was reaching out to Haskill, explaining the situation, and requesting reinforcements as she walked to the block. Right as she was about to summon the forces of Oblivion to provide her and Vorald with escape, she heard a strange and unusual sound she could have sworn was a roar. Everyone faltered, but the Captain recovered quickly and ordered the execution. The axe fell and she didn't react quickly enough to save herself and perhaps maintain the illusion. Cassandra's last thoughts were 'Oh fuck me.'

A/N

I have decided to not follow canon dialogue at all. It's too much of a pain in the ass to try to quote the game, and leads to a feeling of repetitiveness I am trying to avoid. So, at unavoidable canon events, instead of capturing dialogue to the letter I will take the conversation in my own direction or I will describe what was discussed like I've done above during the death march to Helgen. Cassandra's comments about the unhelpfulness of the Gods is an example of how I'll hijack the conversation, while her tuning Ralof out while focusing on her binds will be how I ignore them.

I realized something after writing this chapter, that my comment about sociopaths in the army could offend people. That's not the what I was trying to do. A sociopath, by my definition, is someone who is unaffected by the people they've killed. In an army, where death is the job description, there have to be a couple of people like this. You wouldn't even know a sociopath was insane from talking to them, and they're not really. It's the psycopaths, the ones who enjoy the act of taking another's life, that are the ones we'd consider insane. You could almost say that sociopathy is a gateway madness, and so Cassandra was still able to use it to push them beyond psychopathy and try to turn the tide of battle. There's another thing, raving lunatics are a step beyond psycopaths. A psychopath is still in possession of their mental acuity, even if their thoughts are twisted and sick, while a lunatic would be into the stage of hallucinating or making noises for the sake of making noise, such as barking or howling or even just endless screaming. Anyways, long explanation short, I don't believe the army is full of crazy people and have nothing but respect for soldiers.

I just got a guest review with some pretty messed up shit, about a day after posting this chapter. In order of offensive shit, Cassandra is not "stupid as fuck", she's insane. Kind of the point of her character. Second, I'm not a sexist, women are always as important as men in fantasy games, and I'm not about to create a sausage fest because it's "unrealistic" to have women as fighters. If this were historically accurate you'd be right, women didn't fight, but it's not. It's a video game. Although even then they were good for more than breeding, even if they didn't tend to do as much physical labor or any combat. Besides, Vorald is a dude. Oh yes, the reviewer also thought the Dragonborn was a chick, when he's not. Women are definitely not "weak and only good for sucking dick." you know. The third, and possibly only, valid concern is that Sheogorath is male in canon. Well, this is not canon. It's slightly AU, in case you hadn't noticed. Seriously, whoever posted that is a disgrace to humanity for saying women can't do anything but get fucked. Even if you were totally right it's not like she's swinging a greatsword anyway. She's an archer. Just so you know, I probably would have made most of the characters female if it weren't for the fact I was trying to create a diverse team of people from various races and both genders, each with a unique fighting style. I deleted the review so no one else has to see it, but let's replace that first review I've ever gotten with some positive ones, please? To all my readers who aren't assholes? Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Madness Unleashed

Vorald watched Cassandra walk forward to the block, and felt pretty horrible. She was being punished because she was traveling with him, and he was wanted by the Thalmor. It wasn't enough they'd ruined his life, they needed to continue to persecute him because of his unrepentant worship of Talos. He was also surprised to find that he actually cared about what happened to this woman he barely knew, and didn't particularly like. She walked up to the block, appearing slightly agitated, but not fearful. He could respect that. This Imperial woman was facing death like a true Nord. The headsman pushed her into the block, and as the man did, a strange noise was heard. Vorald wasn't sure what it was, but he supposed it didn't matter. He would face execution soon, but he had lived honorably and was sure he would reach Sovngarde, which was more than could be said for the Thalmor bastards who ordered his execution.

The Captain ordered the fall of the axe, and Vorald winced as he watched her head get cleaved from her body. Then, the Captain ordered him forward. "Next! The Nord in the rags!" He felt like spitting on her, but he would walk to his death with dignity.

It was around this time that everything went to Oblivion and back several times.

What happened first was that Cassandra's corpse began to glow. But it wasn't light radiating off of her, it was a kind of tangible darkness, a purplish-black glow. Her head lifted up off the ground and reattached itself to her head. The flesh began knitting together, and then Cassandra blinked. "Owwwwwwww. Decapitation really hurts." She then went to crack her neck. "Seriously! My hands are still tied after that? Fuck me." Every single jaw in the courtyard dropped, and slowly went lower with each new development. First Emissary Elenwen, General Tullius, and Ulfric Stormcloak had all just witnessed a resurrection, and the image would be with them forever. The Captain, predictably, was the first to recover.

"Kill her again! And make sure she stays dead this time! Cut her up into tiny pieces if you must but I don't want her to ever draw breath again!"

"You're very silly you know that? I don't breathe. And also I can't allow you to kill me again. Allowing you to kill me once was a mistake born of distraction from whatever that thing was."

"What are you waiting for soldiers?! Grab this witch!" The soldiers were still staring in shock, and some of them visibly backed away on the orders. Even Tullius made sure there was distance between him and Cassandra.

"Really? A witch? Now that's just mean. I have never once danced naked under the moonlight or kidnapped little girls. Except for that one time, but she was a vampire, in my defense. I think she was anyway. And I'm really sorry to have to do this next thing to you. You seem like good people, but I can't let you execute another one of these men. It could be Nirn's undoing. So, Haskill, open the gates now."

And with that order to no visible person, the second thing happened, a stream of daedra began pouring out of newly opened oblivion gates. Vorald shot a look at Cassandra, or whoever the hell she was, and she actually looked pained, then, she turned away. He returned his attention to the creature's streaming out of the gates. They appeared to be scantily clad women, shouting things like "Death to Order!" and "For the glory of Sheogorath!" Half of them shimmered with golden light and wielded axes, swords, shields, warhammers, and maces. The other half appeared to be darkness incarnate, and wielded daggers and the shadows. The soldiers were wholly unprepared, but Vorald noticed something astonishing. Not a single one of the daedra was trying to kill. They were all attempting some non-lethal incapacitation of the soldiers. This whole thing was nothing but a distraction.

He heard Ralof calling to him, "Hurry, into the tower! The Gods won't give us another chance!" Vorald began running after him, but when he was halfway to the tower the third thing happened. A dragon, a gods-damned dragon flew overhead and summoned flaming meteors to pummel Helgen to a pulp. Vorald wasn't even sure which he was more scared of, the daedra or the dragon, and couldn't even begin to contemplate Cassandra's role in all of this.

"Jarl Ulfric! What's happening! What are those creatures? Was that a dragon I heard?" One of the Stormcloak soldiers asked.

"I don't know, all I know is that the Legion will be in disarray and we will have no better chance to escape." Ulfric replied.

"You there! Vorald! Climb the tower with me!" Ralof called out.

Vorald ran up the steps, but when he reached the top the wall collapsed inwards and the dragon breathed fire into the cavity that Vorald barely evaded. Ralof pointed out that they'd have to jump into the inn across the alley, but that he needed to find Ulfric. So once again, Vorald was alone. Gods-damn it he was running through a burning village past daedra fighting legionnaires while bound and unarmored with a _dragon_ flying overhead, and he was sure it was all _her _fault. Vorald ran into the Imperial officer who'd read the names, a Nord named Hadvar, and then had to follow him through this, this, well, clusterfuck is the only word that accurately describes it with the proper emotion. As they were running the dragon landed on the roof of the building they were taking cover next to and breathed fire directly in front of them, although it couldn't actually reach the two or else Vorald was sure he would be dead. They ran out into an open clearing and found the fourth surprise of the day, Cassandra calling out to the dragon. Vorald wasn't even sure why he was surprised anymore.

"ALDUIN! Fight me like a man you overgrown lizard! Umm, dragon! Not man! Come on you weak, spineless little-!" Then, as if this day wasn't strange enough the dragon moved to hover in front of Cassandra, using its wing beats to deftly deflect incoming arrows. And along came the fifth surprise, it spoke. "Sheogorath, you are not like these _joor_. Why do you bother defending them? They are worms, fit only to grovel beneath the feet of creatures like us."

"Because if you destroyed Nirn it would get really, really, boring, and I'd prefer to avoid that outcome."

"No. It would merely usher in the new world."

"That sounds like the Greymarch, you dumbass. I stopped it then, I'll stop it now. Fuck you Alduin, this place was once my home and I won't abandon it to its fate like every other God has. Why don't you go ask Jygallag what it feels like to cross me? Or Mehrunes Dagon? You are nothing wyrm."

This sent the dragon into a rage, he flew off and the attack intensified.

"Listen up Aureals! Mazken! I know I called you here to engage the Legion, but you have a new primary objective before the portal closes. Make that bitch in the sky feel the pain of Sheogorath's wrath. Or was it the wrath of grapes? No matter. KILL!" Cassandra called out to the various daedra, who then gave off a series of battle cries and directed their attention towards the dragon and away from the defenders of the village.

Hadvar was calling to him and Vorald ran to catch up, but Cassandra spotted him and ran forward to intercept him. "Vorald, we need to get into Helgen Keep's armory, that's where they stashed our stuff. I know you likely have many questions, but I can't answer them until we're safe."

Ralof appeared and he and Hadvar got into what looked like a pissing match. They finally broke apart and each was calling out to Vorald. Vorald didn't trust the Empire, not right now anyway, and Ralof was something of a friend while Hadvar was little more than an alliance of convienence. As a result, Vorald took off after Ralof and was dimly aware that Cassandra was following him. The dragon began another sweep, and Cassandra shut the door right as the fire was about to enter the room. Ralof and Vorald had to pause to catch their breaths, while Cassandra appeared unfazed. Dimly, Vorald realized she had the same white pupils and gold streaks in her eyes as when he first met her, except they didn't subside nearly as quickly.

"Sorry, I was shutting the oblivion gate. It required a bit of power, that's why the eyes started glowing."

"What. The. Fuck."

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you Vorald, but I didn't lie about my help being needed, or that the other Gods won't pitch in."

He was so overwhelmed and had no idea how to put his thoughts in order enough to ask any questions. So, he grasped onto the first thought that surfaced in his head. "You were complaining about it being cold."

"What?"

"When we first met, you were complaining about the cold. You're a God, why would cold bother you?"

The corners of a smile started twitching at her lips. "Honestly, it shouldn't, but I'm Sheogorath, the God of Madness, nothing about me makes any sense to anyone except me. If you'll recall, I was also hungry but I don't need to eat, sleep, or even breathe."

"So when you were speaking about the Gods you were speaking from experience?" Ralof asked, completely incredulous.

"Yes."

"Do you know Talos?"

Cassandra, or was it Sheogorath, laughed at that. "Oh yes. You could say we are _well acquainted._" Ralof began to blush slightly while Vorald just slid down the wall. He suddenly realized his bonds were still in place. He'd completely forgotten in all of the madness. "In all seriousness, Talos is my best friend. We understand each other in ways that others simply can't as we're both 'mortal' gods. But what I said about Akatosh being a prick wasn't exaggeration. The guy doesn't want to help at all, and he imposes his will on the Aedra. Daedra are out of his net, and the others can try to sneak away from time to time, but for the most part he keeps a stranglehold on the Gods you call the Divines to keep them from getting involved. And no one has the power to face him openly, not even in a united front. This was actually Talos' idea, for me to come here and help out. I thought it would be fun and didn't have anything more pressing, so I agreed."

"You were actually pretty close to Talos when the oblivion gate opened. After that shit Dagon pulled two hundred years ago Akatosh created a barrier between here and Oblivion, to prevent anymore daedric invasions. I can slip through with severely weakened abilities because I was once mortal, but it blocks out most of my brethren for more than quick jaunts through the mortal plane. Anyways, the only way to open an oblivion gate is with the will of an Aedra and a Daedra working in tandem. Talos wasn't very happy by the way, he understood the necessity of my actions, but we had both planned for me to be undercover for a bit longer."

"This is all very interesting, but could one of you cut my bonds?" Vorald asked.

"Of course Vorald, sorry about that." Sheogorath said. She moved over to slice the ropes binding his hands together with a steel dagger lying on the table.

"You've said that you were once mortal, like Talos. What did you mean by that?" Vorald asked.

She sighed, "That's a very long story we don't have time for right now. Suffice to say, I was born Cassandra Titanilius two hundred and twenty five years ago. I'll try to explain later when I'm feeling particularly lucid like right now and we don't have any more pressing issues like Alduin flying over us and angry legionnaires out for our blood."

"Alduin? You mean Alduin the World-Eater?" Ralof asked.

"Yes, one and the same. Alduin the first-born of Akatosh. Yet another failing of the Dragon God."

"You really hate Akatosh don't you?"

"We tolerate each other. Barely. But I don't exactly hate him, I hate the Gods like Mehrunes Dagon, Vaermina, Boetheia, and Molag Bol, who get off on pain and suffering."

"So is this really the end of days? Here? Now? Are we all going to die?"

"Gods I hope not. There is a plan in place to possibly defeat Alduin, but no guarantee. That's where I come in."

"What is this cosmic plan to defeat the World-Eater? Only a Dragonborn can kill Alduin, and they all died out with the Septim line."

Cassandra visibly flinched at the last comment, then said, "The plan was to create a new Dragonborn, a true Dragonborn with the soul of a dragon. There has not been one such ever since the days of Tiber Septim himself. Him." At the last comment she glanced pointedly at Vorald.

"WHAT! How can such a thing be possible! That I'm, _Dragonborn!_ I don't even-"

"Stop. I hear someone coming. None of us are armed so we need to get to the armory as soon as possible. I can summon one of my daedra to fight for us in the meantime, but the sheer concentration required to maintain the link to Oblivion will mean I can't fight as long as she's here. We need to move."

"One last thing. Do I call you Cassandra or Sheogorath?" Vorald asked her.

"This is Nirn, I'm just as much Cassandra as Sheogorath, if not more Cassandra. So in answer to your question, call me simply Cassandra. Or the Lord Prince of Cheeses."

As they stood up, only one thought ran through Vorald's mind. 'Why can't today just end? Haven't I taken enough?'

A/N

I hope this is a bit more exciting than your average Helgen chapter. Instead of the Legion running around like chickens with their heads cut off because of Alduin's attack, they're running around engaging both him and the daedra of the Shivering Isles.

I actually prefer the Legion to the Stormcloaks, but these characters would want to help Ralof over Hadvar. Well, Cassandra wouldn't care, but Vorald would trust Ralof more. However the characters won't deal with either side until after Alduin is defeated and it's unlikely they'll participate in any wars when/if a side is chosen.

I've been playing Skyrim again, and recently replayed The Mind of Madness, and realized the insanity of Cassandra pales in comparison to Sheogorath in canon, so I'm just going to say AU and leave it at that. One of the problems in writing this is that she has to be completely insane, but not such a raving lunatic that she is useless to the plot and in combat, or even worse, a hindrance to the others.

After getting the traffic stats for this story when I posted this afternoon, I've decided to move the update day to Saturday to maximize people who read this. There were almost double the views because I posted six hours earlier than the Sunday night I'd been doing on the previous two. Now let's just see if I can remember about that change when it counts. If I forget (which seems likely) you should leave a review reminding me! Or a PM, whatever floats your boat. Also, special thanks to Tamuril Telrunye for leaving a nice review that I can consider as review number one on this site, rather than the asshole I ranted about in chapter two's A/N. I probably would have forgotten to post until the last minute (so, now) if it weren't for that reminding me I have this story running. It also inspired me to finish the chapter I started a week or half a week ago. (It's hard to keep track of time sometimes when not much really happens. In or out of school/work.) So, you don't need to review, but it gets me thinking about the story and writing it when you do.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Dungeon Crawling

It was just one of those days. One of those days when nothing went right. Cassandra wasn't sure if Vorald would ever be able to trust her again.

_You should have found a less public way to reveal yourself, than it wouldn't be an issue. _Talos told her over the link she shared with him. Gods were able to broadcast into each other's minds when they wanted.

_Why thank you Tiber. I had no idea. I will certainly make sure to be more discreet the next time I help the only Dragonborn escape execution. The only Dragonborn who we need to kill Alduin. _ He could be a real ass sometimes.

_ I'm sorry Cassandra. You're right of course. It's just, there must have been other options right?_

_ You tell me God of War and Politics. Was there any way to remove both of us from that execution without making a scene?_

_ ….no. Not that you would could have anticipated at the time anyway._

_ Well there you go. I actually had planned to be slightly more discreet, summoning only a few daedra, but Alduin ruined it by distracting me. However, it still would've created a huge scene, just slightly smaller than watching my head reattach to my body. It would be like an orange re-peeling itself, except that wouldn't be nearly as impressive as someone returning to life._

It seemed like Talos was done talking to her, and it was just as well because at that moment a group of imperial guards rounded the corner. Vorald picked up the dagger she had used earlier, Ralof drew his axe, and she summoned a Mazken assassin right behind the guards. Forced to fight a two front battle, the small group of soldiers fell quickly.

Cassandra gazed down the corridor the soldiers had just run through. "Come on, the armory is through there. And I can feel the bitch presiding over the execution there as well." They stepped into the armory, which also appeared to be a barracks, and found a few guards who quickly fell. Ralof got the honorary kill against the bitch.

In the armory, Vorald found his armor in a chest, and quickly began donning it. He looked dangerous in his full ebony plate, and the helmet looked very imposing. Cassandra found her bow and a quiver of arrows leaning against the wall. She looked around and saw her dagger lying on a nearby table, but the Wabbajack and Vorald's axe were nowhere in sight. They had no choice but to continue onwards. They walked through the keep's halls, and the ceiling collapsed in front of them, probably Alduin's doing. The next room off of the collapsed hallway was some sort of pantry, and had a few Imperial soldiers gathering up foodstuffs in it. They turned towards the intruders, and began readying weapons, but Cassandra was faster, and they were both dead before they had even fully reacted. Ralof gave off a low whistle. "Damn but you know how to shoot. Are all Gods this talented at everything?"

"No, I've just always been a really good shot. It's really the only thing I ever got super talented at. Although I'm also very good at smelling the roses. In fact, I'd go as far as to say I'm the champion of sniffing flowers."

Ralof turned to Vorald, "Is she always like this?"

"Pretty much."

"Well then. I honestly don't know how to respond to that."

"Just go with it, it's more fun that way." She told him.

They picked up a few healing potions that they could use later in the pantry, and continued onwards. They came across a torture chamber for the empire, and a group of Stormcloaks fighting an Imperial mage. The mage was quickly overwhelmed, and Ralof went to speak to the Stormcloaks. Meanwhile, Cassandra found herself drawn towards the locked chamber nearby. She got the relatively easy lock open quickly enough and walked in, to find the stuff from Vorald's pack, along with hers, strewn about. The packs themselves were off in a corner. She quickly began filling them with the stuff, then reached under the counter where the Wabbajack lay. She smiled.

"Vorald, I'm taking point. I found my staff. I also found our other stuff, and I'll carry it."

"That's good, I found my axe here, in the hands of this assistant to the torturer."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Where did you find the axe? It seems to be of an exceptional quality."

Vorald smirked at that. "I smithed it myself. The ebony axe and the ebony armor are wholly and completely mine."

Cassandra was surprised, "You can work with ebony? Impressive. I was never able to get past steel when I learned how a forge worked. Although I suppose I did create this armor to an extent, I had the ebony commissioned and added my blood at the right time so that it would take on the daedric qualities. Coincidentally, this armor is keyed to me, and no one else can use it."

The Stormcloak soldiers had already gone to the next room, so it was relatively safe to speak freely. "You use your _blood_ in smithing?!"

"And enchanting. It's powerful stuff. Why do you think daedra hearts are so valuable? And those are just from lesser daedra."

"You know, I'm not going to ask."

"Probably smart."

They moved into the next room, and found the Keep was turning into a cave. There were several imperial soldiers that had fallen, but several Stormcloaks as well. Ralof was standing in the corner of the room, pulling on a lever. Cassandra and Vorald quickly ran to catch up.

"There you are. I was wondering where you'd gone off to." Ralof said.

"We were just collecting some gear back in the torture chamber." Cassandra replied.

"Alright, well, we can continue onwards but we need to drop this drawbridge first. After that we should be able to find a way to the light, or at least into a hole so deep the dragon can't get us and we can come out later."

"Sounds like a plan."

They continued onwards and found themselves in a cave system. The ceiling collapsed behind them, and with it their way out. There was no choice but to press onwards. They reached a room with several frostbite spiders in it. Cassandra ordered the others to stay back while she dealt with the spiders. She hefted the Wabbajack, and cast it at the nearest spider, causing it to burst into flames and become a conduit for a fireball that consumed several other spiders. It wasn't quite enough to kill all of them, so she summoned its power again, and turned one spider into a Dremora that began slaughtering the weakened spiders, and then killed itself when it was done. Vorald and Ralof both had their jaws drop at the display of power.

"Cassandra. What is that thing?" Vorald asked.

"It's the Wabbajack, my artifact. Wielded by a mortal, it creates an unpredictable effect against its target, anywhere from turning them into a deformed bunny to having them explode into septims. But if it's wielded by me than I choose exactly what effect it has."

"So is this the power of the Daedra?"

"No. It is a trifle. I have access to almost none of my power while in Nirn. This staff only works because it is designed to be used by mortals. If I had my full power I could just dissolve the ceiling and float right out into daylight, and that's just one of the things I'd be capable of."

"Wow. This whole day has been so unreal."

"Believe it or not, I know exactly how you feel."

"You've had your life turned upside down by a daedric lord too?"

"Yes."

"Wait, seriously? Because I was being sarcastic just now."

"I know, it doesn't change the fact that it's true. But we don't have time right now, I'll explain later."

They continued onwards, and found a bear slumbering over in a corner. Ralof started talking about how they should try to sneak by, but Cassandra just walked forward, nocked an arrow, and released into the back of the bear's skull before he could even finish speaking. She removed her arrow and kept walking. Just a bit farther through the caves, she found an opening into the daylight, and ran forwards. When she got out, she saw Alduin flying away, and Ralof directed them to get down behind a rocky outcropping.

"Okay boys, now that it's safe I can te-"

_Cassandra, are you sure that's wise?_ Talos asked her.

_What do you mean?_

"What was that Cassandra?" Vorald asked.

"Hang on just a minute Vorald."

_ Do you really think they'll believe that the Champion of Cyrodiil, the hero who stopped a daedric invasion and ushered in a new era, has herself become a daedric lord?_

_ I don't know. It seems like their incredulity knows no bounds after what happened today._

_ That's just it. Too much information too quickly might overload them and push them to the breaking point. Gods know they've already been pushed far enough. Give it a few days for them to come to terms with what happened in Helgen before you tell them about yourself._

_ Okay. You're right. It might be too much._

"Cassandra, are you alright?" Vorald asked her.

"Hmm? Oh. Fine! Everything's dandy. Well, as dandy as it can be with a crazy dragon bent on destroying the world wandering around. Oooh, I see a butterfly! I'm going to harvest its wings right now, don't mind me."

"Cassandra, you were going to tell us about yourself when we got to safety, it looks safe."

"Was I? Yes, it's a grand tale! Maybe I'll tell you some day."

"Cassandra."

"Say, do we have a plan for our next step? I would make the greatest plan you've ever seen but I do get so distracted sometimes."

"Are you just acting crazier than usual to get me to leave the issue alone?"

"And what exactly is crazier than usual hmm? I'm Sheogorath, my name is synonymous with crazy. Maybe I'll soak your socks in the blood of the dead if you don't shut up."

"Vorald, she is right about us needing a plan." Ralof interjected. "We can go to Riverwood. My sister owns a mill there, and she may be willing to give us a bed for the night. Moreover, Riverwood is only about half a day's journey from Helgen, and from there it's only a day to Whiterun. Then from Whiterun you can catch the carriage to any hold capitol, or listen for news in the city."

"Well! That sounds like an excellent plan. I say we do that."

"There is one thing though, it's not that I expect you to do anything, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with a daedric lord sleeping under my sister's roof."

"Well! That was horribly rude of you. I'm of half a mind to smite you right now for insulting me." She paused to turn a very effective death glare on Ralof, which sent him quivering in his boots. "Honestly, it's not like I eat children or anything."

"Of course not! It's just, well, you're a God. That's horribly uncomfortable to wrap your brain around." Ralof managed to squeak out, absolutely terrified.

"Oh, I hate it when my brain gets wrapped around things, and then I have to unknot it and it's very unpleasant."

"Sooooo, please don't come to my sister's house?" He asked, with more than a note of pleading in his tone.

She threw up her arms and stalked off. "Fine, be that way. I'm going to go kill some bunnies to mend this wound in my soul you have inflicted upon me."

As she walked off, she heard Vorald's voice. "Could you not antagonize the God? Please?" Cassandra smirked as she started her hunt.

A/N

Helgen's done now, so onwards to Whiterun! I'm actually fairly excited because a lot of OC characters are about to show up, and they will end up making or breaking this story, depending on how compelling and well written they are. Not next chapter but maybe the one after.

I don't like the name for this chapter, the other three came naturally and are entertaining as well as accurately describing the chapter, but on this one I just couldn't think of anything good.

In an effort to break from the game, I described a novice lock as "relatively easy" instead of "novice." I'm just going to clear that up here.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: A Village by the River

The group was camping about half-way to Riverwood, near the lake. It had been a very long day and they had hit sunset before they even knew it. Vorald was sitting by the fire, when a sudden thought occurred to him. "Cassandra, how will people know that you are Sheogorath if they weren't at Helgen?"

She seemed taken aback at his question. "I hadn't thought of that. I'd assumed that revealing myself would make sure my secret got out."

"Well, if someone had told me they'd witnessed an almost daedric invasion followed by a dragon attack, I'd say they were full of skeever shit. Even though all of the important people in Skyrim know who you are, I doubt anyone else will be inclined to believe the rumors. Gods, we could probably walk up to the Jarl of any hold unchallenged."

"Except Windhelm. Ulfric Stormcloak is the Jarl there, and he was at Helgen." Ralof put in.

"Huh, I suppose it might not be the end of the world that people know who I am. It's true that nobody will believe them. That's very good, I assumed that this would make what needs to be done harder than finding a murderer who faints at the sight of blood." Cassandra pitched in.

"Well, I certainly won't tell anyone. They'd think I was crazy, and I'd prefer to not invoke the wrath of Oblivion against myself for the sake of not leaving out any details in a story." Ralof reassured her.

Cassandra started smirking, then spoke, "Well that's good Ralof. I don't want to make you into a roast pig to be feasted upon at the Jarl's court."

Ralof appeared greatly alarmed at this. "You can't actually do that can you?!"

"Maybe, maybe not. Let's hope we never have to find out."

With that, Ralof appeared very uneasy, and Vorald told her that he wouldn't spill either. No point in antagonizing the God, if she wanted him dead, she would have done it already. Except she was insane, and therefore extremely unpredictable. There was a scary thought. Well, if she wanted him dead he wouldn't be able to stop her, best to remain as far in her good graces as possible. Besides, he had a feeling that even if he tried to ditch her, she would just follow him anyway. Vorald needed time, so he went into his tent to catch some sleep. Cassandra had volunteered to stand watch, so at least he didn't have to worry about that.

The next day, they all agreed to keep Cassandra's identity a secret, and then they arrived at Riverwood soon after. It was a small village, there were only about fifty people living here. It had a general store, a lumber mill, a forge, and an inn. The rest of the villagers were all farmers, although there were also a few hunters. There were even a few miners, as there was a mine not too far from the village proper. Ralof led the group towards the mill, where he called out to his sister Gerdur, and she and her husband Hod joined them at a secluded clearing on the small island the mill was located at.

"Ralof! What are you doing here, I thought you had been promoted to Jarl Ulfric's honor guard. And who are these people, they seem very imposing."

"Gerdur, I was. We were captured in the forests of Falkreath Hold near the southern mountain range. They tied us up and sent us to Helgen for summary execution." Gerdur gasped at that. "I'm not sure who these two are, they were prisoners like the rest of us, and escaped with us too. All I know is I owe them my life."

"We were camping nearby, a contingent of soldiers took us by surprise and captured us." Cassandra supplied.

"How did you escape Ralof? Was Jarl Ulfric there?"

"Yes, he was, and it was divine intervention that saved us, Gerdur. In the middle of the execution, an oblivion gate of all things opened right in the center of the courtyard and daedra streamed out to engage the imperials."

"By the Nine! So is this the Oblivion Crisis all over again?!" Cassandra flinched at Gerdur's fearful statement.

"I don't know, but it gets stranger. Almost as soon as the daedra attacked a dragon flew overhead and began destroying the village."

Gerdur sat down heavily at this. "A dragon? Seriously? My Gods, what are we going to do?"

"Just wait, that's not the strangest part, when the dragon attacked the daedra disengaged the Legion and turned their attention to fighting it."

"I…what? I don't even- What the- Ughh."

"Yes, I know it's unbelievable, but the daedra were helping."

"This is going to be bad Ralof. Rumors that Ulfric Stormcloak is summoning dragons and daedra are going to start spreading like wildfires. Isn't it just a bit coincidental that this absolute chaos happened right as he was about to be executed?"

"Gerdur! How can you say such things?!"

"I didn't say they were true! Just that people would talk when word got out!"

"Damn, you're right of course. I don't envy Jarl Ulfric trying to prove he wasn't involved. The Legion will always talk about how 'evil' a man he is, but if this shakes any of the faith his followers have in him, the Rebellion is done."

"Do you even know if he escaped or not?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"Listen Ralof, anything you need, just ask. You'll always have friends here."

"Thank you Gerdur. My friends here could use some supplies and a place to sleep tonight."

"Yes, of course Ralof."

At this Cassandra entered the conversation, "You don't need to give me a roof Gerdur, I prefer the outdoors anyway." Ralof sent his thanks through a gaze in Cassandra's direction.

"No, it's no trouble at all, stay with us."

"It's really fine, I'll just stay out. Besides, I have things to do, I think I heard some nirnroots along the river and I want to go collect them and make a few poisons for the trip, it would be best to do this after the shops close so that I still have time to resupply."

"You can take any supplies you need from us."

"That's very kind, but many of the supplies I'm thinking of aren't very common, such as ingredients for alchemy and such things, speaking of which Vorald, I'm going to be resupplying our equipment, so you don't need to worry about it."

"I have one more thing to ask of you two, can you warn the Jarl of Whiterun about all of this? He needs to hear what happened."

"Shouldn't you ask Ralof to do it? He is your brother after all." Vorald asked her, somewhat confused.

Ralof appeared slightly uneasy. "About that, I can't follow you. I need to return to Windhelm to report after a few days. You two were going to Whiterun anyway, it's not that much more to ask of you."

Vorald was fairly upset, he'd come to respect Ralof, and regard him as a friend. Cassandra seemed unaffected by the news however. "Then I suppose we part Ralof. We'll see you around, or not, it's hard to tell." She told him. Vorald needed to do something, and realized that Cassandra had already volunteered for everything that needed to happen. Left with no other ideas, he walked up to the forge in the village. He asked the forge master if there was anything he could do to help, and impressed the man with his skill. "Very good lad! I'd make you my apprentice, but I suspect you're more skilled than I am." Vorald smirked at that, and continued working until the sun was gone, when he made his way over to Gerdur's house. He'd always enjoyed working at a forge, it calmed him and gave him something to distract himself with.

Gerdur's house was large, but still fairly humble. He saw that Cassandra had left their equipment leaning against the wall. Vorald realized how tired he was, and fell asleep almost as soon as his armor was off. The next morning, he and Cassandra would set off towards Whiterun.

* * *

Vorald woke up early in the morning, before sunrise. He tossed and turned trying to get his sleep back. When he realized he was well and truly awake, he put on his breastplate and greaves and went outside. He saw Cassandra leaning her back against the mill and gazing out across the lake, seemingly in her own world. As he drew closer, she turned to him and spoke. "It's beautiful isn't it?"

"What is?"

She gestured out towards the lake and the forest lining the banks, "Skyrim. It really is a land of beauty."

"Yes, it is." Came the curt reply.

"You can trust me Vorald, even if you can't bring yourself to trust me as a person you can trust that our goals align, at least for now."

"This is all too much to take in, what even makes you think I can save Skyrim? Or that I even want to save Skyrim? You are a God, what makes me better able to deal with this threat than you, why can't you do it?!" As he spoke he grew more passionate in his words, even slightly angry about the responsibility dropped on his lap.

"I'm not Dragonborn. Even if Akatosh liked me, which he doesn't, he wouldn't give me his blessing because then I'd have too much power. You, Vorald, are Dragonborn, and only a creature with the soul of a dragon can kill one of them."

"I don't understand. How is it that I have the soul of a dragon?" He was still upset, but now he was more confused than anything else.

"I don't know. Perhaps Talos or the Greybeards could explain it. But Talos isn't willing to risk Akatosh's anger that far for something so inconsequential as a measly explanation, and we don't have time to travel to High Hrothgar, we need to speak with the Jarl."

Vorald sighed and slid down the wall next to her. As he did the first rays of dawn began peeking over the horizon. "Don't ever lose hope Vorald. I know you are capable of handling this, and furthermore, you are the only one capable of handling this. As soon as you believe in yourself, you will become unstoppable, until then, you will know nothing but pain." Something about the glint to her eyes told him that she was telling the truth, and speaking from personal experience. She walked away, and now the world was becoming illuminated. Vorald realized something, as he gazed across the lake, waiting for the sun to rise. The Gods wouldn't be able to take care of it for him, and it was up to him to ensure that Tamriel continued. He just didn't know how he'd do it yet. 'Gods, I'm screwed, aren't I?' He couldn't help but think.

A/N

That last scene just wrote itself when I realized the word count was too low. The chapter is still fairly short too. So, do you think I should have Cassandra's show of force impact Ulfric's campaign, or have the people of Skyrim ignore it as rumors? I was planning to leave the Civil War out of this story for the most part, but I realized as I was writing this chapter that a pack of daedra would be attributed to the one who benefitted most from their appearance, especially if no one is able to question the one they know is responsible for the act, Cassandra. Even if I do decide that it affects Ulfric, it likely won't actually be explored until after this story is done though, aside from maybe the odd comment here or there, or perhaps a character denouncing the Stormcloaks for worshipping daedra. Leave a review or send a PM if you have an opinion on the matter, and if nobody really cares I'll probably just follow the Elder Scrolls example and rarely mention it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Fun with Thalmor

It was official. Runilus was screwed. It had been twenty years since he had fled the Dominion, and he had made too many mistakes. He had been naïve enough to assume that they would have left him alone and he let his guard down. Then, one day, he woke up to the sound of pounding on his door and Thalmor bursting in, knocking him to the ground and dragging him out into the daylight. He was then put on a death march towards Northwatch Keep, the Thalmor prison in Skyrim. They would break him just to get the satisfaction of having him break, then they would break him some more, then probably send him to one of the work camps in Valenwood. At least it would be warm there, the cold in Skyrim really was completely insufferable.

The small band of Justiciars and Runilus was progressing northwest across the plains of Whiterun Hold at the moment, and it was about noon. If Runilus strained his eyes, he could just make out the profile of the Jarl's palace, Dragonsreach, in the distance against the clear sky. Like all Altmer, Runilus had some fairly impressive senses; the only races that were even more hyper sensitive were the beast folk, the cats and lizards. They were coming upon a crossroads, one road leading towards Falkreath Hold, another traveling North to the Pale and Winterhold, another going east to the Rift, and a final road leading west towards Markarth and Solitude. Coming along the road from Falkreath were two people in fairly impressive armor, a man and a woman walking up the path. The man's features weren't distinguishable because of a helmet, but the woman had bright green eyes with midnight black hair pulled into a braid. As they got closer Runilus was able to pick up on some of their conversation.

"I'm telling you, killing fluffy bunnies is a very relaxing sport. I suppose squirrels or birds would be just as good, but they don't seem to be very common in Skyrim. Well the birds are common, but bunnies are easier to spot. And deer or bears are not relaxing. So I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm obsessed with bunnies."

"There's also the fact that you always use the words 'fluffy bunny' rather than rabbit. It's disturbing. It sounds like you enjoy killing them."

"I do! That's my point."

"Yes, but when you say 'fluffy bunny' it sounds sadistic."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree then."

Runilus could now tell that the man was a Nord, possessing the same lilting cadence that many of Skyrim's residents had, while the woman had a hard Cyrodiilic accent. They were close enough that Runilus could better judge their features. He outstripped both of them in height, he was unusually tall even for an Altmer, measuring at about six feet and four inches, but it was a lanky height, as he barely had any muscle mass on his body. His angular elven features and brown eyes watched them get closer, looking out from beneath the mat of pale blond hair that fell across his forehead. He was completely clean shaven, well, most of the time. It _had _been a forced march and he supposed he was growing quite a bit of stubble. The Thalmor had stripped him of his various rings of fortify destruction and increase magicka, as well as his master robes of destruction and master's hood, leaving him in rags with his equipment tossed into a sack. The one thing of Runilus' that they didn't put in the sack was his Amulet of the Thalmor Officer, because the Head Justiciar had taken it for himself. Even though he was no longer an officer, he had held onto the amulet because it was essentially a blank check for any spell, and his was filled with an invisibility spell. Useful thing, because Runilus was useless with all of the magic schools except destruction, although he was a master with the arcane elements, he had taken to his destruction classes extremely well. The ability to turn invisible was extremely helpful though. Too bad he hadn't used it in time.

As the travelers got closer to the Thalmor the Head Justiciar ordered them not to intervene, as this was Thalmor business. This sent the Nord into a rage, and he looked like he was about to kill every single one of the Thalmor. Runilus was sorry for the poor fool, what made him think he could engage an entire Justiciar unit? Before he could heft his axe though, the woman laid a hand on his pauldron, and he turned to look at her. She shook her head once, then hefted the walking stick she held that appeared to be a very peculiar staff. Runilus watched in amazement as she brought the staff to bear, summoned a strange orb of energy which she aimed at the nearest Thalmor officer and he…turned into a pig. She quickly shrugged off her pack while the remaining two Thalmor and Runilus stared at her open mouthed. Then she fell to the ground and started laughing so hard it looked like it hurt.

"Take THAT in your superiority complex you swine!" She rolled over to the pig and then slit its throat, never ceasing her laughter. As the pig died, it returned to the form of a Thalmor Justiciar, now dead. Throughout the whole demonstration, the Nord had slipped behind the two transfixed Thalmor, and quickly brought his axe to bear, decapitating one and then spinning around to deliver a powerful blow right into the other's ribcage. He yanked his axe out, covering the area in blood. And just like that, before they had even known what had been going on, all three Justiciars were lying in the ground dead. The two began dragging the bodies over to the river, and were about to toss them in for the slaughterfish. This knocked Runilus out of his stupor.

"WAIT! I thank you travelers, but before you dispose of the bodies, I must search them, they possess something of mine."

"He's an Altmer!" The Nord seemed shocked by this development. "What are the Thalmor doing messing with Altmer?"

The woman snorted at this, "Elven superiority is just an excuse for the Thalmor to be in power. They lock up anyone they deem an "enemy of the state" and a threat to the Thalmor, including Altmer."

"That would be…accurate, yes. So, may I please inspect the bodies? Then, if it is not too much of an imposition, would you allow me to travel with you?" Runilus asked them. If anyone could give him shelter from the Thalmor, it would be people like this.

"Oh, yes, of course. Here, let me get your binds there." She walked over and drew her dagger, sawing through the ropes lashing his hands together. "My name is Cassandra and that's Vorald by the way." The woman said. He rubbed at his wrists and felt his magicka flow back to him. He summoned sparks into his hands, and shot them up into the air to make sure everything was normal. "Then I thank you Cassandra, now, if I could look at the bodies please?"

"Of course."

Before he investigated the bodies, he went over to the sack where they had stashed his equipment, and began putting all of his rings and robes back on. He then walked over, and searched each Justiciar until he found the amulet in one of the belt pockets of the Head Justiciar. He quickly raised the necklace and clasped it around his throat, letting it slide down the inside of his undershirt beneath the robes, but not before the Nord got a good look at it. The next thing Runilus knew he was on the ground, suffocating underneath a large man in heavy ebony plate. Vorald had tackled him into the dirt, and was now on top of him.

"I saw that amulet, and what's more, I know only Thalmor officers receive them. So you'd better start explaining yourself before I decide to kill you." His voice was deathly calm, and it was obvious he was serious. _Oh Gods,_ is this some kind of sick joke? To be rescued from the clutches of the Thalmor just to be murdered by his would be rescuers? For the sake of the Eight! He was only one hundred and eighty three! He was too young to die!

"Vorald stop. You'll suffocate him. He was a prisoner of the Thalmor."

"He's one of _them_ Cassandra!"

"Vorald that's ridiculous, get off of him."

Runilus could hear him say something else, but it didn't register, his world simply went entirely black.

* * *

Cassandra knew she had to do something quickly, Vorald wouldn't listen to reason and the Altmer man was going mad from fear. She could hear each of his thoughts as if it were broadcast directly into her brain. So, she tackled Vorald and pinned him down. Vorald began struggling, but Cassanda jabbed him in one of the weak spots in his armor. He began thrashing and she could feel the madness coming off of him, and she latched onto it, and reveled in it.

_Vorald, STOP! _She commanded him. He immediately slowed down.

_How are you inside my head? _ He asked.

_Your anger, it borders on madness. Madness is my thing. Don't make me force you to remain calm, I'd prefer it if you realized your foolishness on your own._

_You don't understand. He took an amulet that he clasped around his neck that are only issued to high ranking Thalmor. He belongs to them. He was probably sent here to spy on us._

_Don't be a fool, not enough time has passed from Helgen for the Thalmor to already have mobilized a spy and concocted a plan this elaborate to insinuate him into our ranks. Besides, he was accompanied by __**Thalmor**__ Justiciars. I doubt that the Thalmor would waste loyal servants like that; they would have sent a group of Imperial soldiers to guard the 'prisoner' if this really were a conspiracy._

_It wouldn't surprise me if they did. And I really hate it when you make well-reasoned arguments __**Sheogorath**__._

She smirked at that comment. _Would you prefer it if I threatened to turn you into a sweet roll?_

…_Maybe. Fine, I'll follow your lead, but I don't trust him._

She got up and saw that the man was still lying in the middle of the road, almost lifeless. She strode over quickly and put her fingers into the crook of his neck. His heart was still beating, so he was merely unconscious. She jabbed him in the chest, then slapped him, but got no reaction. She picked him up and dragged him over towards the river, where she placed his feet in the icy water, and slowly lowered him farther until he woke up. When she reached the knees, he began sputtering, and she quickly pulled him out and laid him on the grass. She gave him a reassuring smile, because he still looked terrified.

"It's okay. My friend has agreed to not attack you again."

"What is the matter with him?!"

"I think he believes that you are a spy for the Dominion. Care to explain why he would believe that?"

The Altmer sighed, "I was raised in the Aldmeri Dominion. My parents were both powerful Thalmor officers, and I myself developed powerful magic. Of course I was set to become a Thalmor officer. Unfortunately, the Great War was brutal, and the Thalmor committed terrible atrocities, atrocities that were allowed because of men similar to me. Once I began questioning long-held beliefs it was as if it were an avalanche of failing doctrine. I could no longer condone the Thalmor's actions, but fear kept me from acting for a few years. Eventually, however, I could no longer stand idly by and I began helping people escape the Dominion. When the Thalmor learned of my actions, I was forced to flee. I have been living in hiding here in Skyrim for the past twenty years, but I became careless, and the Dominion found me. And now, here we are, at present date."

_He seems sincere Cassandra, and this is a very unique opportunity to get some insights into the enemy. Besides, as much as I hate them, the Thalmor skill with magic is widely renowned; he could be an extremely valuable asset to your mission. _Talos was telling her, and she found herself agreeing.

"Do you still wish to travel with us, uhhmm, I don't think I caught your name."

"My name is Runilus. And will _he_ be traveling with us?" Runilus glanced towards where Vorald was sitting in the dirt some distance away.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Yes, it is a problem, he tried to kill me." Runilus gave off a very impressive sigh, "But, I do suppose that beggars cannot be choosers, and I find myself in need of protection from the Thalmor. A pity it must come from him."

"You'll be expected to pull your weight while in our company, can you fight?"

Runilus snorted. "Yes, of course. What part of 'I myself developed powerful magic' did you not understand? I know a plethora of destruction spells. My magic is yours if you can keep him from trying to kill me again."

"Very well. Pleased to have you in our company Runilus." She went to clasp hands with him and then walked over to where Vorald was sitting. "Cheer up broody! I just made us a new friend!"

Vorald shot to his feet immediately. "WHAT! You're allowing the Thalmor to come with us! Are you insane?" Cassandra gave him a very blank stare. "Right, stupid question. But we can't let him follow us, it would be sheer stupidity! Our grand quest would end on the end of a blade in a few days' time."

"Oh shut it Vorald. Even Talos thinks that we can trust him."

"I am sorry, but Talos? You mean Tiber Septim, correct? The man who founded the Empire?"

"Yes."

"And you expect me to believe that you are in contact with a dead man?"

"I expect you to do nothing, least of all believe. It doesn't change the truth."

"Cassandra, back to the present issue, I will need some kind of insurance, some show of faith that this man will not stab us in the back as soon as the opportunity presents itself."

"I will swear an oath to you, my lady, that I will continue to act in good faith towards you and your, companions," he said the last word with a glare in Vorald's direction, and said the word 'companion' as though it were an insult, "And will follow the orders you impose on me to the best of my ability."

"Well! There you go Vorald! Can we get to Whiterun before the sunset, please?"

"Not good enough elf. You must stake something on it. Something that your honor, whatever miniscule amounts you may have, will ensure prohibits you from breaking the oath."

"I swear that I will not betray you or your allies to the Thalmor, of my own volition in any event, I make no promises about what may be confessed under torture, or may my soul never reach Aetherius. That oath is not made lightly, Nord. I hope you can comprehend that. Are you now satisfied?"

"It's good enough for now elf." Vorald slammed his shoulder into Runilus, making the altmer stumble backwards, staggered. "But the second I think you are thinking about crossing us, I will end you without hesitation."

Cassandra gave a heavy sigh. "So glad we're all getting along so well. Now let's hurry towards the city before we no longer have time to stop and pick the flowers."

A/N

Runilus is here! He's one of the OC's that I created from scratch for this story that I am really proud of, mainly because he's a huge prick, at the same time as he's a hero that rejected the Elder Scrolls Nazis. He'll also end up being really important, maybe not in this part of the story, but possibly in part 2 and definitely in part 3. Really, the only characters in part 1 who are important are Cassandra and Vorald, the rest are more like extra combatants, although they all have their uses beyond helping in a fight.

Speaking of part 1, 2, &amp; 3, a few nights ago I finally took the time to decide where this story is going after Alduin's defeat, and the result is an extremely rudimentary plot outline with no real events planned but at the very least is a plan for basic plot, and if I continue along the same plan, this story will be a threequel, although I may split part three if I decide it is too long. In any event, the important thing is that I have a plan, sort of.

Anyways, an internet cookie goes out to anyone who recognizes where, "I expect you to do nothing, least of all believe." comes from. It just made so much sense in context, and both characters are crazy Gods, so I couldn't help myself.

Whenever you see Runilus speak, picture any Thalmor ever and their arrogant voice. Even though he hates the organization and has rejected their accepted "truth," he still lived among them almost his entire life, and some indoctrination lingers in his mannerisms and thoughts. Runilus doesn't really dehumanize (deelfize?) any of the other races consciously, but he still acts as though they were less worthy than Altmer, as evidenced by his thoughts about Khajit and Argonians when he describes them as "cats" and "lizards." And he'll continue to call Vorald "Nord" for the foreseeable future, although that's due more to personal dislike than subtle racism. And then there's his current belief that Talos isn't a God.

I have been leaving character descriptions on my profile in case you get lost on OC's, that will be updated every time a new character appears. I am posting Runilus' information with this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N

So I received a guest review for the last chapter which asked a couple of good questions. I'll try to respond to any guest reviewer who asks good questions that don't veer too far into spoiler territory on these kinds of pre-A/N's. If you don't care, or are big time no spoilers, skip on down to the chapter marker.

So first up, am I planning a Vorald/Cassandra pairing? No, not really. I briefly entertained the idea, but the two of them aren't really compatible.

Second, is Vorald being conditioned to become the new manifestation of Talos? Good question because I considered this possibility. However, Vorald doesn't really possess the leadership qualities to become the Emperor of Tamriel. But even more importantly, he doesn't have the vision of a united land and the drive to make it a reality that Tiber Septim did. And there's the fact that he worships Talos, and resents attention to himself, so he definitely wouldn't want to become the new incarnation of Tiber Septim. Also, every character I bring into this is flawed, as the invincible and infallible hero is kind of boring and just turns into a Mary Sue, and to make him Emperor would ignore several of his flaws.

This is from a different guest reviewer than the first, "This story is good so far, but I just feel like you're not making Cassandra insane enough." Fair enough, and I agree with you to some extent. I'm pretty sure I explained this earlier, I believe it was chapter 3's A/N, but I'll explain again, I'm not really imaginative enough to write her as crazy as I'd like her to be, so I just said 'fuck it, moving on,' and manage the best I can. That said, I don't want her to be so crazy that she is useless in combat because she's wandering off, or in the plot because she's constantly derailing important conversations.

Chapter Seven: The Big City

The group of three reached Whiterun a few hours before sunset. They walked up the fairly long path to the city walls, eyeing the scenery as they passed. There were several guards manning the ramparts nearby, watching for any threat that could come. Whiterun's location in the middle of the plains made it fairly indefensible, and so it had an array of impressive fortifications to protect itself with. However, in recent years the defenses had fallen into disrepair, and Vorald wasn't sure if they would hold. The exterior walls seemed to be crumbling in places. They reached the guard at the gates, who was preventing people from entering the city. Cassandra merely told him they had news from Helgen, and they were let in.

Whenever he walked into cities, he was always astonished by their size and the concentration of people in one place. Whiterun was nowhere near the size of the Imperial City, but it still had upwards of a few thousand people living in it. The small group progressed through the market place, then through the residential district to the Jarl's palace, Dragonsreach they called it. They entered the building, and it was just as impressive as from the outside, with very high ceilings and huge fireplaces in the center of the room. Long tables laden with food ringed the fire pits, and the Jarl sat in his throne, arguing with his steward. He did not notice them at first, but his Housecarl, a Dark Elf woman, did. She walked up to them, usheathed her blade, and prepared to run them off.

"Who are you three? What are you doing here? Don't step any closer to the Jarl!"

Cassandra seemed unperturbed by the new development. "We are travelers, we bring news from Helgen, at the behest of Gerdur of Riverwood. I was under the impression that the Jarl would wish to meet with anyone with concerns for the safety of his hold."

"They are right Irileth. I will meet with them if they have information I need. Proventus, show these three to the war table upstairs, I will join you shortly." The Jarl told his Housecarl. The Steward showed them upstairs, with no small amount of complaining along the way.

When they were all seated, Runilus spoke up. "Helgen? Has something happened to Helgen?"

Cassandra seemed taken aback, "Did we forget to tell you what we were doing? Really? How did we ignore that? And you followed us into the Jarl's palace without questioning what was going on?"

"Truthfully, I had wondered. I however, found it might be prudent to remain silent about the situation until I learned of all of its aspects."

"Well, it's a long story, it would be better to tell you with the Jarl here."

"Very well then."

A short time later the Jarl joined them, and took a seat at the head of the table. "Now, we have heard many rumors about Helgen, but nothing concrete. You say you know what happened there?"

"Yes, my lord, but the tale is not an easy one to hear. I must assure you that every aspect is true." Vorald told the Jarl.

"I do not like the sound of that, but please, do continue."

"Very well. Ulfric Stormcloak was captured by the Empire, and brought to Helgen for execution along with his Stormcloak escort unit. My companion and I," he gestured in the direction of Cassandra, "Were captured while we slept. We were not Stormcloaks, but we were in the wrong place at the wrong time." At this, the Jarl took on a grave expression, but gestured for Vorald to continue. "We were met with General Tullius and a group of Thalmor. Partway through the execution, an oblivion gate opened up in the center of the courtyard, and swarms of daedra streamed out to engage the Legion, non-lethally I might add." The Jarl seemed surprised and greatly alarmed, while Runilus' jaw had dropped. "Just wait, it gets even more unbelievable. The prisoners began escaping, but as they were fleeing a dragon swooped down and destroyed the village. Yes, a real, live dragon. In any event, when the dragon appeared the daedra disengaged the Legion to fight the dragon, and after the attack ended the daedra all disappeared. I'm not sure who made it out of the village, or what to make of the daedra, but the dragons are a very real threat."

The Jarl seemed to consider this, but Runilus spoke first. "If you are saying that there is a daedric threat and dragons attacking Skyrim simultaneously, we must get out of here while we still can. If we travel east towards Vvardenfell we can hide in the Ashlands. There is nothing there, due to the Red Mountain's eruption, none of this will be able to follow us there."

Vorald became irritated with the elf he was trying so hard to ignore. "Have you no honor, elf, no courage? We won't leave Skyrim, because when it's a smoking ruin the dragons will consume the rest of the world."

"I see no reason to place ourselves in unnecessary danger. I, for one do not relish the thought of combating a dragon."

"Enough Runilus, we will discuss this later." Cassandra interrupted.

"I thank you for bringing this to my attention. I must begin preparing. To that end, would you please follow me to speak with my court mage Farengar?" The Jarl told them.

"Of course my Jarl." Vorald answered for them. They proceeded down the stairway into a room that appeared to be an alcove of the main hall. Inside the room they found a man leaning over an enchanting table. "Farengar, I brought visitors. I have a new favor to ask of you friends, Farengar has a task and, well, you all seem like a competent lot."

"So you are the Jarl's new hirelings? Yes, I suppose you will do. I need someone to recover an artifact for me. It should be related to the return of the dragons."

"What's the catch?" Cassandra asked.

"Oh! And not the mere brutes the Jarl generally sends my way. Perhaps you actually have a brain."

"You're a terrible flatterer. Usually when people are groveling for my help they beg much more, and praise me for more than 'perhaps possessing a brain.' My favorite was when a petitioner created a massive twenty-five foot statue of me crafted entirely from cheese." She said, making gestures to indicate just how large the statue was.

Farengar looked confused, then shook his head and pretended he hadn't heard her. "Not flattery, merely what the situation appears to be. However, the catch you were speaking of was that the artifact, called the Dragonstone, may or may not be located in an ancient Nordic tomb filled with traps and undead."

"Oh, is that all? I love undead! They always make such great conversationalists. I'll tell them something nice, and then they'll usually reply with a growl that I think means their day went horrible, because then they always attack me. Then they get up later and we do it again."

"Perhaps I spoke too soon about your intelligence."

Cassandra's face darkened. She got up and punched the court mage, hard, in the stomach. The man doubled over, and then she stormed off towards the city, but not before whispering in his ear, "You are a very rude man. You would do well to treat your betters with greater respect. You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or else I would turn you into a pet skeever and name you Claude." No one except for Farengar had heard her, and he looked after her retreating form with rage, irritation, and confusion. Runilus shrugged and followed her, probably not wanting to be alone in the same room as Vorald. The Jarl was still standing in the room, staring after her, jaw hanging just slightly. "I apologize my lord, I'll go speak with her."

"She seems like quite the handful you've got there."

"She is, she just decided to follow me one day, without any regard to my input. But, once you get used to her she can be entertaining, and I've never seen anybody shoot as well as her." Vorald left Dragonsreach, and ran to catch up with her as she was descending the staircase to the Cloud District with Runilus.

"Fucking crazy bitch." Farengar muttered before dusting himself off and attempting to regain his composure.

* * *

As Vorald caught up to Cassandra within the market district, she spoke to him with her back turned, acknowledging his presence. "We need to find an inn with a large, private room that the two of you can sleep in comfortably."

"And what of you Cassandra? You do not plan to leave me alone with this, cretin, do you?"

"No. We need to get you fully up to speed on the unedited version of events when we arrive, and I believe I owe you an origin story Vorald."

"To be perfectly honest, I'd forgotten about that sometime after we left Helgen."

"Well, I'll indulge you now. Ohh, look up there! How does _The Bannered Mare _sound? Finding an inn was easier than I thought it would be."

"Fine, really." Vorald replied.

"An inn is an inn. I do not believe it matters overmuch. I do see many people coming and going, so it would appear that it is a decent establishment." Runilus added on.

"Then we are decided, let's go."

* * *

They walked into the inn, and saw several Nords drinking mead, and a bard playing his lute in the corner. Cassandra paid the innkeeper for the largest room they had available. In the corner, they saw an Orc who looked to be fairly old, and carried himself with a natural confidence that could only come from proven skill. His brown hair and his beard were shaved down to the stubble. The Orc was sitting, so it was difficult to tell, but he looked to be about five feet and nine inches tall. He wore oricalthum armor with an orcish sword and a shield. The man had several scars across his body, but the most distinguishing feature was a deep scar that ran across his forehead, through his eye, and down his cheek.

As they paid for their room, an angry Nord sat down heavily next to the Orc, and began attempting to pick a fight with anyone in the room, through irritating bragging. The Orc ignored her, but when she lashed out and struck him against the jaw, trying to provoke him as he had not reacted before to any of her bluster, the orc stood slowly, and walked over to the woman, preparing his guard. She threw a wild right hook to his face, which he swiftly ducked under, and then he returned with a solid left hook to her gut that would have broken ribs if she hadn't been wearing armor. He had just punched steel plate without flinching, and then followed up with a hard right cross to her face, that completely knocked her on the ground. She stood, angrily wiping the blood from her face, then charged directly at him. As she got close and drew back her right fist, putting her left arm forward to balance herself, he grabbed onto her extended limb and twisted her arm behind her, before delivering a swift kick to the back, causing her to face plant. The man now moved to wipe the blood from his face, her first punch had broken the skin, then spoke, "Just yield already. It'll end better for you and one of us may yet enjoy our meal." She stood, refusing to give in, and rushed him once more. He sighed, and then gave a quick punch to her face as she stepped into range, causing her momentum to make the punch strike even harder. When she hit the ground, she did not get up, having been knocked unconscious, and the man calmly returned to his meal. Vorald decided in that instant that they needed this warrior.

Vorald walked up to the man, and sat down next to him. "That was fairly impressive you know." The Orc just grunted, and drained his tankard of mead in a single swig. "Listen, you seem like a warrior, and I find myself in need of more warriors. Our quest is worthy, we seek to stop the dragons."

"Listen kid, I'm a merc. If you want my help, you're gonna have to pay. Normally, I'd charge three hundred septims, but as it sounds like you're planning a high risk job, I'll need a little more."

"How about three hundred and a share of the loot?"

"Five hundred plus half the loot."

"Four hundred, and I'm traveling with a group of people, so you can't have a full half. It'll need to be split evenly between those that want a share."

"Make it four-fifty and you've got yourself a deal."

"Four-twenty-five."

"Four-fifty or I walk."

"Deal. What's your name?"

"Gro'bak. So, what are the details of this job then?

"Essentially, you'll travel with us across Skyrim and help us fight. What exactly our next step is, I'm not sure. We're meeting to plan in the next room."

"Very well, take me to your companions." The Orc stood and followed Vorald into the inn's room, where Cassandra was leaning against the wall with Runilus on the bed nearby. Vorld was startled, because she was wearing regular clothing, and he didn't think he'd ever seen her without her armor before. The room was actually fairly large, there was a writing desk in the corner, and a large bed in the main room. Off in a side room there was a smaller bed as well. Vorald took a seat at the chair by the writing desk, and the Orc mirrored Cassandra.

"Vorald, who is this?"

"Oh, I saw him sitting in the corner and watched him easily dispatch a Nord in a fistfight. His name is Gro'bak. He's a mercenary, I've hired him. Speaking of which, I need about seventy-eight gold to meet the agreed upon price."

"The Nord was probably inebriated. A child could likely eliminate a drunkard." Vorald felt his hands clench into fists at the elf's not so subtle jab. Cassandra just ignored him and continued to talk.

"Vorald, we're going to dangerous places, we can't just have any mercenary follow us. We need to know he'll be able to keep up in combat, and that he won't betray us."

"If he does betray us, it will be because someone made a better offer, and then we'll be the first to know."

"Ma'am, if I may? You don't need to worry about me in combat, and I never break a deal until the contract is completed, so you don't need to worry about me betraying you either. Well, much." Cassandra appraised him, subtly reading his thoughts in order to get a measure of his character, and then gave a slight nod.

"Vorald, this story is going to sound even more insane than everything you've ever heard or seen me do. Are you sure we should bring a complete stranger here to hear it?"

He simply shrugged. "If it's truly as insane as you say than nobody will believe him if he tries to pass it on anyways."

"Alright, well, first things first. Tomorrow we are going to Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve this Dragonstone, hopefully it contains some Dragonborn related things that can help you Vorald."

Runilus snorted, "Cassandra, the Dragonborns were eliminated with the Septim line. There is simply no chance in oblivion that this Nord has the soul of a dragon."

"It's true Runilus, but I'll get to that later. So, any objections to traveling to Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"I believe it is a poor choice on our part to enter a decrepit old ruin, likely infested with the undead. But if you believe we truly must go there I shall follow."

"You need to plan out the logistics better. Simply going from point A to point B will get you killed." Gro'bak offered.

"Well, the ruin isn't very far, so it should be fairly simple. We just need to get food and water for a day or two really, as Vorald and I still have all of the potions and poisons I made in Riverwood. We will travel to Riverwood, and from there it should only be a day, a day and a half to get to the ruin and back. Then from Riverwood we can return to Whiterun. So, does the plan sound sufficient? No objections? Good! Then it's time to spin my tale, now, keep in mind, I speak only the truth. Well, mostly the truth, I have been known to misremember, but I am feeling lucid right now."

"I was born late in the third era. In 3E412." Runilus' jaw dropped, and he completely lost control of his words, while Gro'bak's eyes had widened.

"You, you, you are…That would make you nearly two hundred and twenty five! But you are human! I am Altmer and even I am only one hundred and eighty three! And you do not appear to be a vampire either!"

"Yes, but please hold all questions until the end. My parents were hunters. We lived in a cabin in the forests of Cyrodiil. I received my first bow when I was five, and have always been an exceptionally good shot. When I became seven, I began hunting with my father, and over the years became truly skilled. However, I became bored when I was a teenager. The forests were no longer exciting enough to me, I yearned to see the city. So, I traveled towards the Capitol of Cyrodiil, the Imperial City. The problem was that I had no plan. Like our new friend here so kindly pointed out earlier 'simply going from point A to point B will get you killed.' I had no means to survive in the city, and turned to pickpocketing. Unfortunately, I wasn't very good, and was captured by the city guard then thrown in prison soon after. When I was finally released though, I was contacted by the Thieves' Guild. They believed I could help them, and in return they taught me about survival in an urban environment, as well as providing me with food and a bed. I didn't particularly like it there, but I didn't have many options. I was young and foolish, so I never would have considered returning to my parents for an 'I told you so' lecture. So, I stayed with the Guild. I learned many skills with them, honing my lockpicking, knife-fighting, pickpocketing, sneaking, and brawling prowess, as well as keeping my archery sharp. When I turned twenty-one, that same year I was ordered to watch a group of new recruits on an assignment. Well, they fucked up. The guards came after me and I couldn't fight my way out, so I had to surrender. I was sitting in the prisons, serving my time, when one day the emperor came running through escorted by Blades, running from the Mythic Dawn assassins. I watched Uriel Septim VII die, and with his dying breath he practically ordered the Blades to take me with them, as he had foreseen that I would be important to ensuring Martin's success." She paused to let that last revelation sink in. When the realization had hit Runilus, he fell off of the bed, completely stunned. Gro'bak's jaw had dropped, and his hands, previously crossed over his chest, had fallen to his sides. Vorald himself was shocked, but not particularly surprised when he thought about it. He'd come to realize that anything was possible when she was involved.

"So, do I need to cover the events of the Oblivion Crisis? Or are you all well versed in history?" None of them could speak yet, so she simply continued on. "So anyways, I found myself with a choice, something I hadn't had since I had left home. I could join the Blades and attempt to save the world, or I could return to the Thieves' Guild, the life I had never asked for. I chose to remain with the Blades. Trying to make something of myself I suppose. After the Oblivion Crisis was complete, I was named the Champion of Cyrodiil, but I found myself purposeless after failing to protect Martin. Maybe I would have eventually joined some of Cyrodiil's Guilds, but initially I became a wanderer for several years. I never did bother returning to the Thieves' Guild. Then, when I was twenty-five a new oblivion gate opened up near Bravil, in the Niben Bay. I heard the rumors, and came to investigate. Well it turns out this wasn't an invasion, it was an invitation, to the Shivering Isles. Sheogorath was searching for a mortal champion to combat the Greymarch for him. You see, a long time ago Sheogorath was really Jygallag, the prince of logic and order. Jygallag became too powerful, and the other princes feared him, so they cursed him with madness and he became Sheogorath. Then, once every era, Jygallag's consciousness would return, and he would retake the Isles, razing them to the ground. As soon as his conquest was done, he would return to the form of Sheogorath. This was the Greymarch. But Sheogorath had a contingency in place to stop Jygallag, me. I defeated Jygallag, and freed him from his curse, and he then turned away with the rest of his forces to wander the planes of Oblivion, as he had realized that his single-minded determination had gotten him nowhere. Well, there was a slight problem; a realm of Oblivion cannot exist without a prince to govern it. That was when I learned that I hadn't been chosen as Sheogorath's champion, I'd been chosen as his successor."

Runilus still had not recovered fully, "You, you're a Daedra? A daedric _lord_ no less!"

"Yes."

Runilus started spluttering. "I…this cannot be! I do not believe you! This is a very twisted jest Cassandra!" Gro'bak in the corner just shook his head. "I should've asked for more money. I'm of half a mind to walk away now and pretend like this never happened. Of course, this should be…interesting, to say the least. I may need time to consider."

Cassandra sighed, "How's this for some proof then?" She grabbed a dagger, pulled it out and plunged it into her own heart. Runilus gave off a very un-manly scream, then fainted, while Gro'bak looked panicked and Vorald simply sighed. They all watched as she was surrounded by the purple light of Oblivion, and came back as good as new, albeit covered in her own blood.

"Do you have to be so damned dramatic Cassandra?" Vorald asked her.

"It makes a nice statement. And ow."

"Why would a God walk among us? Why are you here? What do you want?" Gro'bak asked.

"Alduin has returned, the first-born to Akatosh. Talos and I both agreed that he needed to be stopped, but I was the only one in a position to do anything about it. So I came here to assist the Dragonborn in his task, and ensure that the World-Eater falls."

Runilus began to stir, and then sat up fully. "Cassandra, I just had the most peculiar dream. I had dreamt that you had told me that you were Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness. Then that you had killed yourself in front of us. This is all so strange. Oh my. Is that blood on your chest?"

"It wasn't a dream Runilus, you fainted." With that, he passed out again.

"Yep, definitely not getting paid enough for this job, we can discuss the new amount in the morning. What's more, with that whiny elf, an angry Nord, and the God of crazy, it sounds like you'll need someone like me to keep a level head on his shoulders and form plans. It's going to be a lot of coin."

"Thank you, Gro'bak. I have plenty of coin, but it's all in Oblivion and I didn't think to bring any of it with me. So your payment may be a long ways coming. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sleep," she frowned as she took in the sight of the blood on her clothing, "but first I'll need to take care of this thing. I suppose I could have thought through the killing myself thing a little bit better. Anyways, you'll either have to crawl into bed with Runilus or sleep on the floor. Unless you have your own room situated?"

"Yes, I do, but thank you for your offer. I need to, contemplate the events of the day. I will meet you three in the morning to get everything prepared for our expedition to Bleak Falls Barrow."

"Very well, see you in the morning."

A/N

This chapter is super long because it had way too many things that needed to happen. Maybe I could've broken it in two, but, meh. So, new OC, Cassandra's story is out there, and they have their lead on the Dragonstone. Tune in next time on The Eye of the Storm for the journey to Bleak Falls Barrow! Sorry if there are bugs, I threw it up really quickly.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Skies of Blue and Werewolves too

Cassandra woke up early the next morning. She didn't really need the sleep, but she still felt great afterwards, something of a leftover effect from when she was mortal. Well rested, she began donning her armor and walked up to the innkeeper to gather up any other supplies she estimated they'd need for their trip to Riverwood that day. Mostly foodstuffs. Speaking of, today would probably be much more difficult than the simple problems she could be dealing with. She'd have to build camaraderie between Runilus and Vorald so they would stop hating each other so much, find out if Runilus even trusted her still, and then there was the unknown of Gro'bak. She groaned at the difficulty of the task, she would much rather skip through the Isle of Mania. Unfortunately, she was needed in Tamriel now more than ever.

She returned to the room with the supplies, and waited for the others to wake up. She had not noticed Runilus get up, although she assumed he must have at some point while she was sleeping, because she saw he was now lying in the bed instead of the floor where he had passed out. Vorald had fallen asleep on the carpet. As she took a seat, Gro'bak entered the room.

"Are those the supplies there?" She nodded and he responded with a grunt, bending over to investigate. "The fruit here is a bit of a danger to bring with us, as it'll get crushed easier and go bad faster."

"I know, but we're only going to Riverwood, so I assumed we would be fine."

"Then everything looks to be in order. Are we ready to leave? The sooner the better."

She smirked at him. "Then you get to be the one to wake those two up."

"Fine." He walked over to Runilus and jabbed him in the stomach, then walked over to Vorald and rolled him over with his foot. "Wake up you two, we're leaving in five with or without you." Runilus groaned, while Vorald began standing.

"Is it sunrise already? A pity. I was enjoying pretending that yesterday never happened."

"Are you going to be okay Runilus? You seemed pretty freaked out when I told you."

"As well as you would expect someone who had learned that a person that he respected was the daedric prince of madness. So in other words, not very well at all. I still have a debt to repay to you, and now that I know you are a God, my chances of survival in any altercation with the Thalmor increase significantly. I, however, still find myself wary that you may change your mind quickly and destroy me. It has been known to happen, and makes me understandably nervous."

"That was with my predecessor. I promise I won't destroy you unless you really, really deserve it."

"That is _such_ a reassurance."

"Just go with it elf. The way I figure is that if she wants you dead you won't be able to stop her anyways."

"And that begs another question, how is it that the Nord knew about this when I did not?"

"In Helgen, the Legion cut my head off. Every single person at the execution watched my resurrection. Then I summoned several daedra to ensure that Vorald would escape with his head intact. I really want to see what the inside of a dragon looks like. And then I can skip around with its entrails. Do dragons even have entrails? Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough. So, are we ready to hit the road?"

"Aye." Vorald said.

"Of course." Runilus agreed.

Gro'bak merely grunted his assent.

"Well then. Off we go."

* * *

Runilus still could not believe it. She had always seemed mad, but not in an insidious way. And then she reveals that she just happens to be a God. And the others acted like it was the most normal thing in the world!

"So, Vorald. I take it you don't like Thalmor much?" She asked, walking in front of them.

"Oh, did you figure that out by yourself? What's your point?"

"And Runilus, you don't seem to like the Thalmor a lot either."

"Not particularly, no."

"Well there you go! The two of you can talk about your mutual hatred of the Thalmor!" Both Runilus and Vorald narrowed their eyes at her.

"You know, Sheogorath, I could just knock their heads together hard enough to make them stop acting like idiots."

She made a sour face at that. "Please Gro'bak, just call me Cassandra. If for nothing else because it wouldn't do to identify me as a Daedra when there might be eavesdroppers."

"We can see for miles. Nobody is watching."

"You never know! There might be bugs, spy bugs that are secretly recording everything we do and say and reporting back to the Thalmor or the dragons or maybe even Mephala. That seems like something she would do, a spy bug. Anyways, in answer to your offer…maybe, but only if it's necessary."

"It would make them stop glaring at each other at least."

"Yes, I suppose there is that."

"I see what you're trying to do there Cassandra. You're not going to make me like the elf."

"Likewise, I find I cannot even stand near this oaf without very nearly collapsing from the overwhelming stench."

"That's not a step in the right direction. In fact, that's a step in the opposite of the right direction. You just demoted him from Nord to oaf."

"Did I? I'm afraid I did not even notice."

Vorald narrowed his eyes, and was about to speak when a man stepped out of the treeline of the forest they were rapidly approaching, wearing hide armor. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here boys! A small group of travelers! I'm going to give you four a choice now, hand over everything of value and escape with your lives, or don't, and we'll rob your corpses. Personally, I'd prefer to avoid any unnecessary violence."

"Bandits." Vorald said.

"Oh very good! What are you Nord, the disseminator of obvious information? It seems quite clear that this man is a bandit. I say we kill them," Runilus summoned a fireball into his palm and began tossing it back and forth, "And then take _their_ items of value. Some poetic justice in addition to civil service."

"Careful, this man doesn't seem too smart, but we don't know how many allies he brought with him." Gro'bak reminded everyone.

Runilus shrugged, "Does it matter? We literally have the Gods on our side. I do not see how we can lose."

"Hey, just because I'm immortal doesn't mean the rest of you are. Here on Nirn I have no extra advantages in a fight aside from my marksmanship. And that's all me, no special God powers there." She warned them, although from her tone it sounded more like she was defending herself.

"I'm sorry, did you say the Gods?" The bandit asked. He appeared to become slightly panicked.

"Yes. Surprise! I am Sheogorath and I will turn you into cabbages!" With that, she drew her staff and fired it at the bandit, doing just as she said, transforming the man into a giant cabbage. With that, the rest of the bandits, about a dozen, stupidly charged. Vorald drew his axe to engage the two or three that were closest, while Runilus cast a fireball into a crowd of four bandits. Gro'bak had drawn his sword and shield and was trying to attract attention to himself to draw the brunt of the attack while Cassandra and Runilus were slinging arrows and spells from the back of the group. The fight was over in a matter of seconds, but the last fireball of Runilus' landed dangerously close to Vorald, burning him slightly. Cassandra saw the hit, walked over to Runilus, and decked him. "Watch the friendly fire would you? Heheh, fire. Damnit, so not my point! Runilus, we are a team whether you like it or not, and as a team we have to watch each other's backs in combat. That means little to no collateral damage unless there is no other option! And no other option means when the other's combat capability is at stake! Even then don't be careless! Now go heal him."

"I am afraid that I am not particularly gifted with the healing arts. I can stabilize the damage, but I cannot return him to the state he was in before."

"Just do what needs to be done. And take this healing potion." She handed him a vial filled with a red liquid.

"Very well."

Gro'bak walked over to Cassandra. "I noticed you arguing with yourself earlier during that little tirade. Does that happen often?"

"More than I'd like to admit."

The Orc just grunted, and walked away. Runilus by this point had reached the Nord, and began healing his wounds. Runilus could not help but notice the Amulet of Talos hanging around his neck. "You believe in the Man God, Nord?"

Vorald looked up at him, slightly irritated, "Of course I do elf. What are you going to do, report me to the Thalmor?"

"I meant no offense, I merely do not understand how so many people can believe that a man, no matter how great, could ascend to the Divine Council."

"And what would you say if Talos had been an Altmer? That it was only right that he had reclaimed the godhood that was his by birthright?" Vorald sneered.

Runilus was taken aback at the question. "I, you are correct. Many Altmer would not question an Altmer equal to the greatness of Tiber Septim becoming a God. But those people would also be wrong, I believe."

"The Aedra invited him to their council to get perspective on mortal problems. Perspective is everything. That's one of the reasons I want you here Runilus, to maintain a broad perspective." Cassandra called out from some distance away. How had she heard? Not even one of the beast folk would be capable of picking up on their conversation from that distance. Right, God, stupid question. Wait a minute, she had just confirmed that Talos is a Divine. The realization completely floored Runilus, and he needed to sit down just then.

"You are telling me that one of the few things I had not considered the Thalmor were wrong about, they are not only wrong, but so grievously wrong as to invoke the wrath of a God."

"Yep. Talos is actually the one who came up with the plan to send me here. I'm mostly just along for the ride."

"You, you are working with Talos." Runilus stated blankly.

"Yes, Akatosh has a deathgrip on the Aedra, that's why Talos didn't appear to destroy the Thalmor armies during the Great War. But, I lie conveniently outside of his jurisdiction."

"I…I would prefer to cease this line of discussion. I think I've had my world turned upside down quite enough for, oh, say the rest of my life." He said, visibly shaken.

"Very well, we will continue onwards towards Riverwood in silence then."

* * *

They reached Riverwood that night and spent the night in the inn. They woke up an hour after dawn the next day, and made sure they had enough supplies. A few hours before noon, they returned to the trail. They spent several hours climbing. As they ascended the mountain Bleak Falls Barrow was located on, it got steadily colder and colder. When snow first began to fall, Cassandra couldn't help from commenting. "Vorald, this is as cold as it gets in Skyrim, yes?"

Runilus surprised her when he answered first. "I imagine that the most frigid location in Skyrim would be the Throat of the World. However, I have never been there, so I cannot be sure. I have been to the College of Winterhold and the ice behind the city of Winterhold, and can honestly state that I have never in my life been colder."

Cassandra couldn't help but groan. "So, I take it that Winterhold is the coldest place in Skyrim?"

Vorald and Runilus both answered, "Yes," then turned to glare at each other. Cassandra groaned again. The trail had gotten progressively worse, but up ahead they saw a tower standing against the sky.

"We should climb that tower, we could use a high view to reorient ourselves and see how much longer we should go before making camp." Gro'bak spoke up.

"Not to mention all of the goodies that are doubtlessly asking to be taken hiding inside. Yes, let's have a look." Cassandra replied. The group stepped forward a few more paces, when they heard an ear-splitting howl pierce the twilight. A silhouette appeared at the top of the tower, a silhouette that was not human. As the group watched, in awe, the creature jumped from the peak and landed not far from them. Runilus summoned lightning, Gro'bak slowly unsheathed his sword, and Vorald immediately drew his axe. Cassandra was about to prepare for battle, when she realized she was sensing the creature's, fear? No, fear wasn't the right word, more like an animalistic sense of being in danger. It was not afraid of them.

"Werewolves. Wonderful. Cassandra, are you sure it's too late to break my oath?" Runilus asked, mostly in jest but with a hint of pleading in his tone as well.

The werewolf roared, right in their faces, and the others began attacking, but before any of them could strike, Cassandra intervened. "WAIT! Don't try to kill it yet!" The beast cocked its head to the right.

"Are you kidding me Cassandra! This thing is going to kill us!" Vorald screamed.

"He is right, we should not take any chances. Every second we argue is another disadvantage." Gro'bak seconded.

"Trust me. He's not hostile. He just expects us to act hostile and is prepared for the worst." Cassandra argued.

"Cassandra, now is not the time for us to bicker so. There is a monster waiting to consume us." Runilus agreed with the others.

"Here, just watch this." She walked forward, right up to the werewolf, and tentatively stretched her hand out. She placed it upon the beast's snout, and began rubbing. As she did so, it snarled, and she withdrew quickly. Then, it shifted into the form of a man.

"Do not touch me." The man was a Redguard. He had dark brown hair the color of his fur in wolf form, and a beard. Al of his hair was out of control and cut unevenly. He was very muscular, at least on par with, and possibly stronger than, Vorald and Gro'bak. Like all Redguards, he possessed a very dusky and dark complexion. The most distinguishing feature was the golden eyes, like a wolf, that he possessed. He was five feet and eleven inches tall, wearing what looked to be a hide cloak made of a wolf pelt. On his finger was a ring, a ring that bore a power signature she recognized, the power of Hircine. The werewolf inhaled deeply, and then turned to glare at her. "You smell of Oblivion. Who are you?"

"That is quite the question isn't it? I suppose that the me that you speak of would be Sheogorath," she gave a little bow, "At your service."

"Why do you not attack me?"

"You did not wish to fight us."

"That did not stop the others from attacking."

"Others?" He gestured behind him, and she realized the tower must have been filled with people. She saw a bandit lying face down in the snow just outside of the tower, and put the pieces together.

"Yes, well, bandits are not renowned for their intelligence."

The man looked confused at that, "What is a bandit?"

She was surprised, but answered him anyways, "Bandits are thugs that attack people on the roads and take their things when they're done."

"I see."

A silence passed between them, and she realized she didn't even know who he was. "What's your name?"

"Joneif."

"Well, you wouldn't happen to know of any nearby Nordic ruins would you?"

"A mile in that direction." He pointed over his left shoulder.

"Well, thank you for that. It's just what we needed. I suppose we'll be going on our way now. So glad we could avoid a confrontation." Throughout the entire exchange, every one of her companions had not relaxed their guard, and seemed to be annoyed and confused that she would try to talk to the werewolf.

"I would like to come with you." She was surprised at this, and the others were visibly shocked.

"Why is that?"

"You are different, and it is not just because you are of Oblivion. You saw me as a man, instead of the monster others do. Is that not enough of an answer?"

She considered for a moment, before nodding her head. "Very well. You can come with me."

Vorald and Runilus were both shocked into speechlessness at that. Gro'bak looked dubious, and then asked, "You can control the beast blood, correct? We don't have to worry about you going feral do we?"

"Yes."

Gro'bak nodded, and sheathed his blade. "You can't actually be considering this can you?" Vorald asked the mercenary.

"For once, I find myself agreeing with the Nord. It is an uncomfortable feeling."

"Look you two, werewolves are savage. He will be a great asset in battle, after all, aside from dragons can you think of many things more intimidating then a charging man-sized wolf?" Cassandra asked them

"Very well Cassandra, but I can't shake the feeling that this is a very bad idea." Vorald conceded.

"Oh lovely. In addition to the already eclectic band of experienced mercenary, ex-Thalmor officer, the latest bloody Dragonborn, and a God, we now have a fucking werewolf to complete the set." Runilus must have been very upset if he was swearing. She'd have to deal with his feelings about the things he'd been exposed to before he went insane, their group had more than enough crazy already. She'd do it when they had a break.

"Well, we now know that Bleak Falls Barrow isn't far off, we should get a move on before the light is gone, it's nearly sunset." They all gave their assent, and continued onwards.

A/N

I'm sort of looking for a beta. If you want the job you should send me a PM with your qualifications. I don't really need someone to help proofread, as any mistakes I make are few enough that people will simply ignore it because, "Oh, just an amateur fanfiction writer, not like awnser instead of answer is that big of a deal," so what I really need is someone who is well versed in the lore of The Elder Scrolls to help me keep this story semi-consistent with canon lore and with itself. If you do apply, you can get early access to my buffer chapters and a look at my plot outlines and character sheets. And you can help me work kinks out and plan things better and give me ideas to help fill in blanks. Fair warning, my personal notes are difficult to read as I leave notes to myself in the works, and there are some anachronistic paragraphs within the outlines. If you agree to apply, prepare to have the plot spoiled beyond repair, as things are going to happen to characters who haven't even been introduced yet that could tint your perception of them beforehand. If you don't really care about spoilers and just want to know what happens next, then what's stopping you from signing on? Around chapter six, someone actually PMed me asking if he could help, but I could use more perspectives, and he's sort of disappeared or we still need to work the kinks in our communication out.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Bleak Falls

About an hour after they picked up the werewolf, the group arrived at Bleak Falls Barrow. They were all very quiet, wary of the new member and fighting through rising anticipation of what they would find at the Barrow. Cassandra had broken off from the group briefly to get the wolf up to speed, but that hadn't taken long. When they arrived, Gro'bak noticed that their position was fairly vulnerable, and called a warning to the rest of the group. "Wait here, it looks like there could be an ambush ahead."

"Good call, I'll take a look ahead and return soon." Cassandra said. With that, she started climbing up a route alternate to the staircase and disappeared from sight. Her boots were enchanted to muffle sound, so she did not have to worry about how much noise she was making, only how visible she was. A few minutes later, she returned. "There are about two dozen bandits up there that I can see, and I'm not sure how many are in the actual ruin."

"Alright then, if we move quickly, we should be able to take them by surprise." Gro'bak replied. "We should send in the warriors first to draw them out, then after maybe two minutes the ranged fighters should take as many as they can down. The wolf will be in the ranged fighter's wave, and he'll run down any enemies outside of the melee."

"'The Wolf' has a name." The werewolf spoke up.

Cassandra shot Gro'bak a small glare. "Of course, Joneif. We'll work on it later." The wolf grunted at that, and fell silent again.

"It's a good plan, but we need to work it out a bit," Vorald threw in, "Gro'bak and I should each take opposite ends of the courtyard, and use taunts to draw the bandits more effectively."

"Yes, and then we should have Cassandra and the wol…" at the glare he instantly received, Gro'bak quickly corrected himself, "Joneif pick off the other archers while Runilus slaughters anybody who group together with his spells."

"Alright, any objections?" Vorald asked the group, they all gave their assent and Gro'bak followed Vorald up the steps. As soon as they began running, arrows began bouncing off the steps, but they both knew how to dodge them, and made it to the top. Vorald immediately cut into the first of the bandits, and gave off a fearsome war cry that drew attention to him. Gro'bak moved out of his way, and began banging the pommel of his sword against his shield. They both managed to outmaneuver the enemies to keep from being flanked, and the archers didn't have a clear line of sight to shoot them.

Over time, they were both flagging a bit, and the archers were almost getting a clear shot, but then an ear-splitting howl pierced the night. A massive wolf began rushing into the courtyard, and gave the bandits pause, enough pause to give the two warriors new openings and reinvigorate them. About half of the bandits were dead now, killed by the warriors or the savage beast. The archers began falling to the arrows of Cassandra, and almost all of the enemies were now entirely focused on Joneif, making them easy to kill. Runilus joined his spells to the fray, and it was all over. After the battle, they all paused to catch their breath.

"Does anybody need healing?" Cassandra finally asked.

"I have a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious." Vorald informed her.

"I'll be fine." Gro'bak told her.

"They were all too scared to injure me." The wolf said, having reverted to human form after the battle.

"Well then, we should head inside before we catch a cold. Maybe we can all take a nap too. I could use a nap." With that comment from Cassandra, they all entered the ruin.

* * *

As soon as they walked into the ruins, they heard a group of bandits conversing loudly. Cassandra held up a hand and the group drew to a stop. She started walking towards the voices, and took cover in the shadows. Joneif could see her draw her bow and fire. Immediately, three bandits came running around the corner, and started searching for the source of the arrow. Another bandit fell, and they noticed the group, but before they could get close Runilus fired a lightning bolt that arced from the first to the second bandit. Both bandits were stunned momentarily, just long enough for Cassandra to finish them off.

"That went well," Cassandra commented, in an overly excited voice, "granted, there weren't many bandits. It's late, we should probably make camp. I'll keep watch. Joneif, could you help me? I imagine the beast blood will keep you up anyway, and we'll need to be extra vigilant since there are probably more bandits inside. Besides, we'll have a great time! Tell stories; get to know each other better over a pint of ale."

"Do we have ale?"

"No, not really."

"I'll keep watch, but no unnecessary conversation from me."

Cassandra stuck her tongue out at Joneif for that comment. "You're no fun. Fine."

The group settled in on the stones around a fire the bandits had been running, and many quickly fell asleep. Cassandra and Joneif both settled on opposite sides of the small campsite, staring into the darkness. The next morning arrived quickly, without any incident, and the group met to discuss the next step.

"It looks like there's not much we can do; aside from go deeper into these ruins." Vorald pointed out.

"Yes, but these Nordic ruins are very narrow, it's likely we wouldn't all be able to go through at once, besides, we should probably have a rear guard anyway." Gro'bak added.

"How many people do you think we should send then?" Cassandra asked.

"I'd say a maximum of four."

"Vorald, you should pick who comes with you."

"Hmmm, I think you should come with me, and Gro'bak to fight on the front lines with me, and, um… fuck me. I need the elf."

Runilus looked surprised, and then spoke up. "What! _You_ are asking for _my_ help?"

Vorald gave him a sour look. "I don't like it either elf. We need Cassandra to open locks and keep an eye out for traps, and then disarm them, and as much as I hate to admit it we will need a mage in case of injury. We can't bring Joneif, because as useful as he is, I don't imagine he'd be much good in a tight space."

"Well, umm, thank you? For the vote of your confidence, that is."

"Don't make it bigger than it is, elf."

* * *

The group forged ahead through the tomb. There were never any significant threats, just a couple of skeevers really, easily dispatched. Everybody was taking anything that caught their eye, as they needed money and looting tombs like this was usually the best way to get it.

"Help! Is someone there? I'm stuck!" They heard a voice call out as they made their way through the narrow tunnels.

"It sounds like someone's in trouble." Vorald said.

"Careful. It seems like a trap to me." Gro'bak warned.

"Why do we lay about when there are things we must do? I, for one, am not bothered by the potential of a trap. Let us simply continue onwards." Runilus added, a frustrated edge to his voice. He then proceeded to walk calmly into the next room, a fireball between his two hands, and promptly began screaming, running back towards the group. "Why did it have to be spiders? I _hate_ spiders!" He said, beginning to hyperventilate. Vorald walked up to him and smacked him across the face.

"Snap out of it elf. You say there are spiders? How bad can it truly be?"

Runilus was becoming indignant, "Well, you should look for yourself. I am afraid I must stay here." Vorald snorted and walked into the next room, signaling the others to follow him. Runilus remained seated on the floor where he had landed, getting control of his nerves. As they rounded the corner, Vorald saw what the elf had been shrieking about. An absolutely massive frostbite spider, about fifteen feet long, five feet tall, and ten feet across, was sitting in the middle of the room, and shrieked when they entered.

"That… is a very big spider." Was all Vorald could say. Before he could react, an arrow flew from the corner of the room to strike the spider directly in one of its eyes. The monster seemed unfazed, however, and it only served to enrage it. Vorald quickly drew his axe, and beside him Gro'bak also drew his weapon. The spider lunged directly at Gro'bak, but he raised his shield just in time to avoid being pierced by its leg, the appendage deflecting off of his shield instead. Gro'bak acted quickly, and sliced the leg off before the spider could retract it, blood spurting from the wound. The spider was quickly shot in the same space on its carapace with three arrows in a row, but the exoskeleton would not break. Vorald ran forward while the spider was distracted. It noticed his approach, and moved one of its legs to slash him, but he quickly ducked underneath it and took the opening to swing his axe into the creature's underside. It bellowed in pain, and Vorald drew his axe one more time for a mighty downswing that cleaved the spider's skull into two pieces. He wiped the blood off of his axe, and then heard Cassandra sheathe her bow and Gro'bak replace his sword and shield on his back.

"Well, that was fun! For a minute there I thought the spider would eat you Vorald, and that would have been very, very bad. It would've made me sad. Oh look, corpses! In my experience corpses always have nice little treasures on them." She started walking towards the dead bodies, then turned around and said, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, yes. Gro'bak, you should tell Runilus it's safe now."

"Fine." He said before walking off. Vorald began looking around the room when he heard a man's voice.

"Hey! Over here! Get me down from here right now! Please!" A man had been stuck in the doorway to the next part of the tomb in spiderwebs. Vorald walked up to him and examined him. He was very stuck and clearly desperate. The spiderwebs also covered the entire doorway, so even if he was not inclined to help the man, it would be necessary to continue onwards and locate the Dragonstone.

"Who are you?"

"Who, me? I'm nobody, just an adventurer really. I came to Bleak Falls Barrow because I'd heard of a power the Ancient Nords sealed here. The Golden Claw is the key! If you get me down, I'll give it to you!"

The others started circling nearby as he spoke. "You appear to be more bandit, and less adventurer from where I am standing." Runilus said.

"I'm inclined to agree. And I seem to remember a shopkeeper in Riverwood complaining bitterly about the fact that someone had broken into his store solely to steal his prized Golden Claw." Cassandra added.

"Alright, alright, fine. You caught me! I'm the leader of the bandits camped outside the Barrow. But all I want right now is to continue living! Please just let me out of here and I promise you can have the cursed Claw to do with it as you please. I want nothing more to do with this place and you'll never see or hear from me again!"

"Regardless of what we do with him, we have to free him first as he's currently blocking our path forward." Vorald said. Runilus gave off a heavy sigh, stepped forward and began casting concentrated streams of fire into the webbing, creating a large block with the bandit in the center. Runilus kicked the webbing, causing the block to fall out the back with the bandit in tow. He then summoned another flame spell to clear the remaining webbing from the doorway. He walked forward to the block, where the flames were catching and loosening the webs. Before the fire got out of control, he applied ice magic to snuff out the flames, and the man was able to pull himself free of his binds.

The man stood and began laughing cruelly. "You all are such idiots. You really think I would share this treasure with you? I'll tell you what; first one to the inner sanctum claims the prize." He turned and began running, only to be knocked flat on his back by a firebolt from Runilus.

Runilus walked over to the dying bandit. "I am afraid that it is you who are the fool. You have forgotten that the people you were in the process of backstabbing are all extremely well equipped, well trained, and possessed of significant experience. Meanwhile, you are a third-rate bandit whose name is not worth so much as a septim. You will die here, forgotten by all, with no one to spare you any tears. Good day." He finished as the bandit breathed his last and went limp. Before he died though, he managed to choke out, "Oblivion… take… you."

"Runilus, wow. That was dark. I like it. Really gives you character. It's refreshing. But you definitely should have threatened to feed his intestines to his children. That would have been _so_ over the top. Unless he didn't have any children. Although-"

"Cassandra. You're rambling. Let's just, let's just leave." Vorald said, slightly disturbed by what he'd witnessed.

"Oh, yes, you're right of course. Got to just keep moving."

They continued onwards, after Cassandra had looted the man's body and procured the Golden Claw, some coin, and his personal journal. The journal didn't seem very helpful, so they left it, but kept the coin. Cassandra held onto the Claw, saying something about returning it to its owners in Riverwood. They proceeded onwards, and in the next room found something otherworldly. It was a walking corpse, remarkably well preserved, with glowing blue eye sockets and deathly pale flesh. It growled, almost animalistic. Runilus shot a stream of flames into it, killing it quickly.

"That was very unlike the kinds of undead I am used to. What is it?" Cassandra asked.

"Draugr," Runilus and Vorald both answered at the same time. They paused to glare at each other, before Vorald continued, "Legend says that they served the dragons during the ancient war, and have been cursed to guard Skyrim's tombs as these monsters as punishment for being on the wrong side."

"I don't like that theory. It seems far-fetched. For one thing, who was responsible for administering the punishment? Let's just call them nasty, angry, well-preserved zombies and call it a day." Cassandra replied.

Vorald shrugged, "It's just a legend."

They continued deeper and deeper into the tomb, fighting their way through more and more draugr. Runilus discovered that fire was extremely effective against the creatures, and was subsequently placed in the vanguard to unleash flames upon them when they appeared.

Eventually, they arrived at a room different from the rest. It was a long corridor with artistic depictions of long-forgotten history etched into the walls. At the far end a strange, large door stood. It had three rings with a different picture of an animal inside each ring. There was a dragon, a wolf, and something that was either an owl or a cocoon. When Vorald leaned against the door, one of the rings started moving and he realized it was some kind of puzzle. When the rings were properly aligned it looked like it would slide into the floor. Vorald looked down into the center of the door and saw an indentation that reminded him of the Golden Claw.

"Cassandra, can you hand me the Claw please?" She walked over and placed the device in his hands. He placed it in the door like a handle and twisted. The door started sliding downwards, and Vorald felt a triumphant feeling, which was quickly crushed when it caught on a latch and returned to its place. "Of course not, why make things easy?" He muttered. He looked down at the Claw, and saw several inscriptions of the various animals found in the rings lining up along the palm. Getting an idea, he began aligning the rings of the door with the rings of the Claw. He used the Claw again, and this time the door slid all the way downwards.

"I am surprised you found a way through. It must have been incredibly simple for you to have found a solution." Runilus taunted.

"Shut it elf. Why are you acting even worse than usual?"

"Am I? How do you know if this is not usual for me?" Runilus replied. Vorald growled while Cassandra looked at Runilus, concern written on her features. Vorald stalked off into the next room, but almost immediately stopped when he took in the sight before him. The tomb had led into a massive cave with a waterfall in the corner and a river running through it. There was a raised platform in the center with a large wall fashioned into a semi-circle dominating it. Up on the platform was a treasure chest and a coffin, this was the most likely location for the Dragonstone.

Vorald walked up to the wall and suddenly his vision narrowed and one of the words on the wall, written in the dragon language, began to glow with a strong blue light. As Vorald walked closer, the light intensified until it filled his field of vision, and then one word rang through his head. FUS**.**

"Are you okay Vorald?" Cassandra asked him.

"Oh, um, yes. Actually, I feel really good right now."

The other two made it to the top of the stairs, and they began searching for the Dragonstone, when the lid of the coffin flew upwards. Every member of the group drew their weapons, and a powerful looking draugr emerged. This one was wearing sophisticated armor, the armor of a draugr deathlord. It reared its head back, and spoke three words. "FUS, RO, _DAH!_" A blue aura resonated from the being, and when it collided with the group it sent each member flying backwards. As Runilus was unarmored, he took the worst hit, but they were all slammed against the dragon wall harshly. Cassandra quickly picked up her bow which had landed nearby and began slinging arrows at the draugr. Neither Gro'bak or Runilus seemed to be stirring, probably unconscious. Vorald drew himself up to one knee and began searching for his axe, which had been dropped behind where the draugr was now standing. Oh_ wonderful._ The draugr had drawn its sword, and was slowly closing in on Cassandra. It lunged for her, but the blade was stopped by her superior daedric armor. It began slashing at her, and Cassandra was starting to take a beating. Vorald acted purely on instinct, he stood to his full height, and uttered the word he had just learned, "FUS," his voice transforming it into a Thu'um, with the distinctive _crack. _The draugr was staggered for only a moment, but it was all Cassandra needed. She drew her dagger from her hip and drove it directly into the draugr's eye. The blue orbs dimmed as the creature died, and she withdrew her blade. She nodded at him, and then walked over to the other two. She began shaking Runilus awake, to no avail. She checked his pulse, and determined him to still be alive, then did the same for Gro'bak with the same results.

"We're going to need healing potions Vorald. I'll return to the entrance of the tomb to bring Joneif back here with our packs, but you'll need to keep an eye on these two. Have a look around while I'm gone, the Dragonstone must be somewhere." With that she turned on her heel and walked back the way they had come. Vorald walked over to the coffin, and saw a tablet resting on the bottom with a map of Skyrim on it with several X marks across the land. He picked it up and sat down heavily as it hit him. 'I just used the power of the legendary Thu'um, without even trying. I really am the Dragonborn aren't I?' He put his head in his hands, overcome with responsibility as it was irrefutably proven to him that Skyrim, no, _Mundus_, really did depend on him. The question was, could he do it?

A/N

Runilus is a huge prick, although he is being a bigger prick than usual. That was still a fun monologue to write though, almost evil, even though he is not evil. Pragmatic, yes, an argument could be made that he is a coward, and he is undeniably a prick, but he is not an evil bastard. That character comes much later (after Thalmor Embassy.)

Anyways, I think canon regarding shouts is stupid. If the Dragonborn has the soul of a dragon, shouldn't he already have an instinctive knowledge of all words of power? The only reason word walls and dragon souls are necessary is because the game wants to encourage you to decide how you upgrade and doesn't want you to become _too_ OP too quickly. I still would have followed canon though except I want to use shouts as a dynamic part of combat so I don't want to waste time finding them, especially when there are Dragons of Destruction to kill. Also, what's up with dragons having the entire language to use to their advantage in combat, yet they only ever use fire breath or frost breath? So expect dragon battles to be more difficult as well. I've also realized that my group is massively overpowered, and they're only half-full, so I'm having to compensate with more enemies as well as more difficult enemies. It's why Bleak Falls Barrow had two dozen bandits camped outside instead of the three or four from the game, and why there was a draugr deathlord so early on.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Emotional Healing

Vorald was still sitting with his back to the wall when Cassandra returned, and he looked troubled, perhaps even upset. Cassandra walked past him towards where Runilus and Grobak were both still lying, and she grabbed her potions from her pack. She knelt down and used them, and within fifteen minutes both were able to sit up again. They both sat with their backs to the dragon wall, Vorald hadn't moved from where he was by the coffin, and Joneif, who'd carried the packs, was leaning his back against the dragon wall, looking stoic as usual.

"Right, well, for starters. Are you two okay?" She asked, directing her question towards the two who were still slightly dazed.

"Hmmm. I feel fuzzy. Is that normal?" Runilus stated.

"I…I'll be fine. Just gotta… sleep it off." Gro'bak also stated.

Vorald didn't answer.

Cassandra sighed. "Joneif, can you carry those two out of here?"

"Yes, but I will need to call upon the Beast."

"Very well, you do that, I'll deal with mopey over there, we'll camp outside Riverwood where nobody will see you, and everything will be peachy. Just watch. I wonder if it's even daylight still. It's probably sunset by now. You know what I could use? A bath. But not just any bath, no. It should be a bath in the blood of my enemies. And then I want to ride a unicorn. And then go flying. And then-" at the glare she received from all the very tired people who weren't able to put up with her at the moment she amended her statement, "-I'll shut up now. Sorry! You really ought to stop me when I get like that."

Joneif transformed and lifted Runilus, then Gro'bak, and began walking, Cassandra walked over to Vorald. "We have to leave now. Did you find the Dragonstone?"

He looked up at her and held her gaze, "Yes," he replied tersely before returning his gaze to the floor. He held up the artifact for her to examine, then slowly rose to his feet. Joneif was standing in the middle, waiting for them. Vorald walked towards the back of the room, up a flight of stairs. While Cassandra was examining the Dragonstone, they heard him call out from the top, "Guys! I found a secret exit!" Cassandra looked to Joneif and shrugged before following him up, and heard him following her.

As they moved down the cave, they saw light coming from farther down, and emerged into the evening sun. They were standing above the ground, on a cliff. Joneif, still a werewolf, simply leapt off of the cliff carrying the two injured people with him, the beast blood granting him enhanced endurance and pain tolerance, making the fall easily survivable. Cassandra, being immortal, followed him off the cliff, not concerned over survival. That left Vorald stuck up on the cliff.

"Guys! How do I get down?!" He shouted out.

"Oh shit. We forgot him up there. Ummm, Joneif? Any chance you could get back up and bring him down?" At that exact moment, he shifted back to his human form, again wearing his wolf fur cloak and special looking ring. "Right, of course. Just my luck." Cassandra muttered. "We could build a ladder, but what to use for rungs? Bones? No, not enough of those. Dandelions? That could work… except dandelions are flimsy and weak, no good. Screw it. People! Any ideas?"

"I… we could… I do not know." Was all Runilus could manage.

"I don't think so good right now." Was Gro'bak's less than intelligible reply.

Joneif simply stared at her.

Cassandra sighed, then turned her head upwards towards Vorald, and called out to him. "Is there any way you could, I don't know, climb down!"

"Not really! It doesn't look like there's a path I could take, and I don't want to try my luck at rock climbing while wearing heavy plate armor without safety gear!"

"Could you just go back through the Barrow and meet us at Riverwood!"

"No! Remember how we had to jump down to get to this exit! I don't think I could get back up that!"

Joneif sighed, twisted his ring and transformed again. He jumped up, grabbed Vorald, and jumped back down. He then shifted back to human. "Joneif, how did you do that? Come to think of it, how did you not burst out of your clothes during every previous transformation?" Vorald asked as he stood.

"I ran into a feral werewolf some time ago. I killed him, and Hircine appeared. The man had stolen a ring of his, so as a gift for killing him, I got the ring and this outfit."

"The Ring of Hircine, that grants control over the Beast Blood. So the outfit, what, molds onto your skin or something during the transformation?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes."

"Well. Alrighty then. Before we set out for Riverwood, I'd like to get a look at those two." She walked over to where Runilus and Gro'bak were sitting and knelt down, looking into each of their eyes. "Yep, just as I thought. They have mild concussions, or psychopseudo dissociation syndromes. No that last thing wasn't a thing, definitely concussion. I think. Whatever, they need rest regardless, and we need to get to Riverwood. They can walk, but they probably shouldn't fight or engage in other strenuous activities for about a day."

* * *

By the time they arrived in Riverwood, it was already close to midnight. The cave exit had been a bit closer than the entrance to the tomb, but not by much. When they went to the inn, they found that the innkeeper had left on some mysterious business, and that there was no way to pay for their rooms. So, they decided to make camp just outside of town. As it was late, everybody went to bed pretty quickly, except Cassandra who took watch, of course.

The next morning, nobody was talking to each other. As she needed to make peace with Runilus, she walked over to him. "Hey, are you okay?" She asked.

He looked up and dismissed her. "I am perfectly fine. That was a nasty hit to the head, but I am feeling much better today."

"That's good to hear, but I meant psychologically."

"Whatever could you mean?" He asked, feigning innocence.

"Well, first it was recklessly throwing yourself into battle against the bandits a few days ago, with some line about 'being on the side of the Gods.' Then, when Joneif joined us, you referred to him as 'a fucking werewolf,' and swearing seems out of character for you. And do I really need to remind you of the show you put on for that dying bandit who held the Golden Claw? Oh! I still have that! I need to go find that trader and return it before we leave the village. Thanks for reminding me."

"Yes, of course. You would not want to forget about that. I am sure they'll give you plenty of shiny gold in return. You should go do that right now."

"Okay, yes… Wait a minute. You're trying to distract me."

He shrugged, "It was worth the effort."

"Seriously, how are you?"

"I will admit that I have been better. You have completely turned my world upside down. It is a bit, overwhelming. Well, more than _a bit,_ try, completely beyond anything I have ever experienced or expected, even in my wildest dreams. I am on a quest to save the world fighting side by side with a man who tried to kill me, and is supposedly the only hope for any of us, and a woman who is not only the hero who defeated the daedra during the Oblivion Crisis, but has herself become a Daedric Lord. But not just any Daedric Lord, the Daedric Lord of Madness. Fitting, I suppose, for all of this feels completely insane. Sometimes I wonder if none of this is real, if I am still in the Thalmor's custody and have gone mad, creating a fantasy world where I can punish myself rather than suffer their torments."

"You're not insane, not yet anyway. Trust me, I would know."

"Your words ring hollow, for if you are a figment of my imagination, you assuring me that I am not insane would be meaningless."

Cassandra sighed, then drew her fist back and punched him across the face. Not hard enough to hurt him, just to get his attention. "Snap out of it. I understand what you're going through, really, I do. I went through the same when the madness first started settling in, except it was much worse for me because I actually was going crazy. You second-guess every thought and start becoming paranoid, you forget things, and you change your mind on a whim. Over time, I've learned to control it to a degree that I can still be confident and productive but it is still there. If you continue on this path though, you will go completely insane. If you accept everything that has happened, it will be much easier for you, and you will keep your wits about you. If you fight it, well, we'll probably have to kill you when you go berserk."

"Very well, I will… try. Do you know why the Nord hates me so much, while we are on the topic of my grievances?"

She frowned, "No, not really. He doesn't really seem like a racist, well, not a _conscious_ racist anyway. And hating someone from the outset doesn't seem like him either. He doesn't seem that paranoid. _I'm_ not that paranoid, and I'm almost like literally the God of Paranoia. It must be something to do with your Thalmor amulet."

"Do you really want to know why I dislike and distrust you so much elf?" Vorald asked from some distance away, walking closer.

"Vorald! What a surprise! Umm, how much did you hear?" Cassandra asked.

"Enough."

"Oh, okay then. I'm going to go deliver the Golden Claw. This just got horribly awkward." She retreated quickly, leaving Runilus and Vorald to glare at each other.

"Why do you hate and distrust me so much, Nord?" Runilus asked.

Vorald sighed, then began speaking, "I was born and raised in Skyrim-" before he was interrupted by Runilus.

"I figured as much. Does this account have any pertinent information?"

Vorald frowned. "You would know by now if you wouldn't interrupt me. So, I was born and raised in Skyrim. My parents were very devout to the Divines, all _nine_ of them."

Runilus held up his hands in mock defense, "I have now personally witnessed events more unbelievable than Tiber Septim becoming a God. I am not ready to begin worshipping the man, but I am willing to give Talos the benefit of the doubt."

"In any event, one day, as I was helping my father at the forge, oh, he was a blacksmith, Altmer cloaked in Thalmor robes arrived. They accused my father of being a Talos worshipper, and attempted to arrest him. We fought back. They killed him, right on the threshold of our home. Before my father died, he told me to run. I managed to evade them, but when I returned my home was burning, and I could still hear my mother's screams coming from within, but they were quickly silenced as a section of the roof collapsed. I was only eighteen."

"After that, I tried to find work, but the Thalmor came for me again. I was a wanted man, so I had little choice but to become a wanderer, always moving, finding quick jobs where I could get them to buy my next meal, and then move on. The last time the Thalmor came for me, I got fed up. I had heard about Ulfric Stormcloak's Rebellion, and decided to join up."

Runilus had to admit, the story made sense. It did sound awful, but it was also relatively tame compared to some of the other things the Thalmor had done, and didn't excuse his behavior in the least. "So you are one of Ulfric's lackeys? Why am I not surprised? So what is it? You hate the Empire and their elven puppet masters, and to you I am just another Altmer, therefore clearly working for the Thalmor?"

"No. I don't hate the Empire, but they cannot keep Skyrim, and me, safe from the Thalmor. And I did not think that you were working with the Thalmor because you are Altmer, it was because you have an amulet specifically designed for Thalmor officers."

Runilus sighed, "Did Cassandra ever tell you about my history?"

"No, she didn't."

"Right, of course not. I was raised in Alinor after the rise of the Aldmeri Dominion. I _was_ a Thalmor officer, but after the Great War I found I could not condone their actions. I tried to help as many of their victims as I could from the inside of the organization, but I was eventually discovered and forced to flee. I traveled as far from the Aldmeri Dominion as I could, to Skyrim. Eventually they caught up to me, and that is when I met you and Cassandra. I wear this amulet because it is _useful_, both to ward away prying eyes, and for this." Runilus began drawing some magic from the amulet and cast it to turn invisible. After thirty seconds, he returned to a tangible form. "I do not have the skill in illusion magic to cast that particular spell. Luckily, the Thalmor have discovered a method of enchanting that allows them to store a spell inside clothing or jewelry that they can then call upon without drawing on their magicka reserves. It is similar in principle to weapon enchanting, occasionally soul gems must be used to recharge the spell."

"Oh. So, what will you do now?"

"Honestly? I do not know. What can I do now? I am painfully short of options. That is why I am still here. And you? What will you do now? You have already declared your previous attempt to join the Stormcloaks. Why not return to them?"

"I never made it that far. I met Cassandra on my way to meet up with them. I don't really think I should join them. I never really agreed with their attitudes or their methods. Their goals are noble, but unrealistic. I was really only going to join them because they are the lesser of two evils compared with the Thalmor, and it would give me some measure of protection from those elven bastards. But the main reason was because it would give me the chance to do _something_, rather than run and hide from the Thalmor, waiting for them to capture me."

"How long have you been avoiding the Thalmor?"

"Twelve, thirteen years. What about you?"

"Impressive. Twenty-two for me, but I do not believe that the Thalmor were actively hunting me."

"Oh? But you were a traitor. It sounds like they were more persistent in capturing a Nord who was hardly a threat than in someone who had actually deserved to be hounded."

"You do not understand. I do not think they were hunting you because you had escaped or had worshipped Talos, but because you defeating them was an insult and opposes the ideal of elven superiority. Meanwhile, while they would have been far more insulted by my betrayal, it also would have reflected badly on them if one of their own had defected and escaped. As a result, I assume it was kept quiet, with only a select few knowing about it and carrying out a discreet search for me. My family likely knows about it." Runilus laughed at that, as though it were some inside joke, "It still brings a smile to my face, imagining their reaction to that bit of news."

"What is your family like?" Vorald asked.

Runilus' face hardened. "Hardcore Thalmor adherents."

"Oh. My condolences. You know what elf, I guess you're not so bad. Still a completely insufferable prick and a coward, but all in all not bad." Vorald said, this time, when he said "elf" it had lost the derogatory edge that it had held before.

"Yes, I may be changing my opinion of you myself, that is, if you apologize for trying to kill me. But you will never stop being a mere dumb brute. Sadly, I believe that is beyond my abilities to improve."

Vorald chuckled softly, "Very well. As much as it pains me to say it, I'm sorry I was so irrational and tried to kill you Runilus."

Runilus smirked slightly at that, "And I apologize for, well, you said it yourself _so_ elegantly 'being a completely insufferable prick,' Vorald. But that will likely never change, at least in the foreseeable future."

"Fair enough."

* * *

They set out for Whiterun soon after. Due to an unexpected rainstorm that drove them under an overhang, they were not able to return to the city by nightfall, and arrived early the next day. The group proceeded towards Dragonsreach, where they would figure out the next step. As they arrived in Farengar's room to deliver the Dragonstone, they saw him talking to a woman about the dragons. There were a lot of pieces missing though; they clearly knew something that they were deliberately not sharing aloud. Cassandra saw that that ass Farengar had seemed to not even notice their entry, and continued his conversation like they weren't even in the room, even after the mysterious visitor had pointed them out. Eventually, he did come to acknowledge the now rather large group in his study. "Ah, back from Bleak Falls Barrow eh? You didn't die it seems! So, did you find it?"

Vorald wordlessly opened his pack, and withdrew the Dragonstone, presenting it to Farengar. The man looked like he would die of excitement while the woman was appraising them, and gave a silent nod of approval. As she shifted, Cassandra caught a glimpse of the sword at her belt and gasped aloud, drawing the attention of everyone in the room except for Farengar. A devilish grin split her face, knowing she had found another of the Order.

"What are you grinning about?" The Blade asked, slightly hostile.

"You're a Blade! I thought they were all dead! This is great-" Cassandra was cut off by the dagger at her throat, "-news." All of her companions were now looking at her in shock, also readying their weapons against the hostile woman. Farengar had finally looked up, and seemed unsure of what to do. There was no one to witness it besides Farengar.

"How did you know that? Who told you?!"

"Nobody told me. I recognized the Akaviri katana. Shit, you are far more paranoid and violent than literally any other Blade I have met."

"You have met others?" Her grip on the dagger tightened. "Where?" Even though it was a question, it was presented more like an order.

Cassandra glanced at Farengar, then back at the woman, "Um, Cloud Ruler Temple?"

"Wrong answer, it's deserted now, and you aren't nearly old enough to have been there before the Great War. Try again."

Runilus snorted at her extremely ironic statement. "Um, here might not be the best place for this discussion." She said, glancing pointedly at Farengar.

"Let me put it this way. You will talk or you will die."

"Fine. I am a Blade."

The woman became more enraged, and slammed her against the wall, causing Cassandra's companions to rush her, but Cassandra waved them away. "Don't lie to me! There aren't any Blades your age!"

"I'm older than I look."

The woman was about to continue the interrogation, but quickly dropped Cassandra when she heard approaching footsteps. "This isn't over." She said ominously before leaving calmly. Her departure was immediately followed by the arrival of Irileth, the Jarl's housecarl. She set off towards Farengar at a brisk pace. "Farengar! A dragon has attacked the city! You're needed right now!" Irileth turned to face Vorald, "You as well. Come along now!"

They climbed the stairs to find the Jarl questioning a guard. "You say a dragon attacked the Western Watchtower?"

"Yes, my Jarl. It just swooped down out of nowhere and everything was burning. I wasn't sure if I would survive. It seemed it was headed this way."

"Irileth, I need you to organize the Guard to defend the city against this dragon. Gods, a bloody dragon." He paused to look at Vorald, "And you. I'm afraid to say this but I need your help again. You were at Helgen, you have more experience than anyone with dragons. If you succeed in this you will be extremely well compensated."

"A dragon! Now! No, we are not ready! How could we possibly defeat a great beast like that!" Runilus began panicking.

"Dragons, bloody dragons, and bloody Dragonborn, and bloody Gods. Why me? Why must this fall to me?" Vorald wasn't exactly panicking, but he did not look excited.

Joneif, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Well, as ecstatic as he could get, a single faint grin was the only indication. "A dragon, a real, live dragon! There could be no greater hunt than this, surely."

Cassandra was mainly concerned with information, grilling the soldier. "What did this dragon look like? Did you get a good glimpse. Were there any unusual scales, more curved and pointy and deadly looking on him? What color was he?"

Finally, Gro'bak's voice rose above the others. "Enough! This is happening and it is happening now. We must act swiftly if we are to save the people of this city. First, we have to strategize, and consult with the guard and we can't do any of that with you all this disorganized."

"He's right." Vorald said. "We need to talk among ourselves, and then we can present our best plan to your Housecarl, my Jarl. She can take it or leave it." Vorald told the Jarl.

"I pray that it will be enough." He replied.

A/N

I don't _hate_ Delphine, but my characters will. At least a few of them will, I a few might be neutral. If you read her scene thinking "she's not _that_ irrational," you forget how many enemies she has. If you read it thinking "she wouldn't attack the Dragonborn," she doesn't know that Vorald is yet. Under the circumstances, that is exactly how someone like her would react, if she didn't outright kill as many people as she could. Anyway, next chapter is dragons! I'm planning to do something interesting with the fight, hopefully you all agree that it is better.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Here, There be Dragons

The group stepped onto the terrace that overlooked Whiterun Hold for their strategy session. Gro'bak was the first to speak. "What exactly do we know about the dragons?"

Cassandra answered him, "They have extremely tough bones, nearly unbreakable. The scales are a sort of natural armor, but good steel should be able to pierce it. They have razor sharp teeth, and claws, and will use them. They are also nearly impossible to strike while in the air. Finally, they have full access to the power of the Voice."

"Alright, so it sounds like we need to knock it out of the sky."

"How exactly could we do that?" Runilus asked.

Gro'bak frowned, clearly thinking deeply. Finally, he spoke up. "We bring a group of archers out of the city to distract the dragon and draw its fire. Then, when it gets close we target the wing joints and hope to butcher it by the time it lands."

Vorald frowned. "That plan has a lot of things that could go wrong."

"I know, but we don't know enough about these creatures to form a more effective one."

"Well, I believe I may know of a way to avoid one issue. Instead of shooting directly at the dragon and towards the city, we could have Vorald Shout. It will be like an irresistible challenge to the dragon. Then, as it breaks its assault to attack us, we can try to kill it." Cassandra informed them.

"Yes, that could work." Gro'bak replied.

"There is one matter we must consider, however." Runilus added. "We cannot allow the Nord to fall. If he dies, much as it pains me to admit, it sounds like there will be no hope left."

"What are you saying elf? That I should stay out of the battle?" Vorald asked, incredulous.

"Not exactly. On a related note, we cannot allow the wolf to participate in the battle, as it will be fought alongside the Whiterun Guard."

Joneif began growling. "I will not lose the opportunity to kill such a great beast in such a glorious hunt."

"I do understand your concern, but I find that if one of my allies were to unexpectedly transform into a werewolf, I might do something rash such as shooting him. Unless you wish for the Whiterun Guard to be informed of your… bestial nature beforehand, you do not have a choice. My proposal is that Joneif watch from a distance, if the battle becomes irredeemable, or Vorald looks to be in significant danger, than Joneif transforms and removes him so that he can fight another day. Everyone but you is expendable, even me. That is what I propose we do to ensure your safety."

"Alright, let me see if I understand clearly. We convince Irileth to abandon the defense of the city and follow me to the outskirts, where I lure the dragon out. We attempt to kill the thing, but should we fail Joneif will be standing by to remove me. Correct?" Vorald asked, making sure he understood clearly.

"Sounds like our plan. Oh, I do hope it succeeds! This is so exciting, I haven't been this excited since that time I stole Mehrunes Dagon's socks!" At the look she received from everyone in the room, she amended herself. "Did I say that out loud? I said that out loud didn't I? Shit. Forget I said anything. I'll… I'll be quiet now. Important things happening, not the time, all that stuff and everything."

They returned to the Jarl's palace, and found the Housecarl mustering the troops inside. Vorald stepped up to her. "Irileth, we have a plan. We need as many guards as you can spare to follow us into the plains well away from the city. We're going to try to draw the dragon to ourselves."

"I can't spare a single guard. The dragon could attack any minute and the city must be properly secured."

Cassandra stepped forward, and used the most persuasive voice she could manage. "Irileth, the security of the city is our only concern. Wouldn't you agree that it is better to engage it far from all of the civilians, who are completely innocent? They don't deserve to burn because we couldn't spare just a few guards for a farther front."

Irileth looked at her, and fought an internal battle over whether she should spare the guards or not. Finally, she caved. "You can only have a dozen men, I absolutely need everyone else. This gambit you're planning had better work. How do you plan to lure the dragon anyway?"

"In Bleak Falls Barrow we found… an ancient power. We're reasonably sure that the dragon will be drawn to it." Vorald answered.

"Fine, I don't care as long as it gets the job done. Captain Bailey! Follow this man wherever he leads you. He's going to fight the dragon. I expect each of you to do your duty."

"What?!" The man cried out, alarmed, "You're putting us straight up against the dragon?!"

"You would have been going against the dragon directly anyway! At least if their plan succeeds you don't have to worry about your wife and daughter being in danger!"

"I-" He sighed. "You're right Housecarl. I'll gather my men."

As they walked through the streets of Whiterun with their contingent of guards, they heard a roar and saw the dragon flying straight towards them. As they were passing by the statue of Talos and the huge tree just before Dragonsreach, they watched the dragon make a pass. "YOL-TOOR-SHUL!" It Shouted, spewing flames and causing the tree and several houses to begin burning.

"Shit!" Vorald screamed out as the dragon flew off.

"We need to get moving, and quickly." Gro'bak solemnly stated, and the group broke out into a run to get out of and away from the city.

The priests at the nearby Temple of Kynareth streamed out and began using frost magic to quell the flames, but the damage was already done. The dragon made several more passes, alternating between frost and flame, or simply swooping down to swallow a defender whole. The group, along with their contingent of guards, ran even faster. There was at least one silver lining, the dragon was not Alduin, Cassandra was able to confirm that much.

As they exited the city, Vorald decided the best place to fight the dragon would be east of the city, beyond the farms, and he took off in that direction, the others matching his pace. As soon as they left the city, Joneif had conveniently peeled away, and was now watching from a distance. When they arrived at a sufficiently desolate location, they all had to take a minute to catch their breaths, but there was no time. Cassandra handed each member of the group a weak stamina potion, but it was enough. Runilus also tried to rejuvenate each member of the Guard as best he could using his magic, but he didn't seem to have done much. Vorald could now see plumes of smoke rising from the city, but the dragon was still flying high. He took a breath in, and tried to remember what he had done in Bleak Falls Barrow. The words force and fus began intermixing within his mind as he prepared to call on the Thu'um, and then it burst out of him, leaving him winded. The dragon made one more pass at the city, and Vorald panicked slightly, not sure if he had not been heard, or worse, had been ignored. But, just as they planned the dragon peeled away from the city and began flying directly at them. Unfortunately, the guards failed to notice.

"The power of the Thu'um. I can't believe it. You're, Dragonborn." The man said the word almost reverently.

Cassandra snapped them out of their stupor by drawing her bow. "Hello? Is anyone home? This is your imminent doom, informing you that there is a dragon coming right for us and that you'd better pull your heads out of your asses and prepare for battle while you still can. If you do not seek an early death, you will draw your bows and aim for the wing joints." Her words were punctuated by a released arrow. The dragon was too far away for her to hit anything specific, but it was also far enough away that it was unprepared and did not try to dodge the projectile.

The guards all drew their bows and released a volley, but this time, the dragon was prepared. "FEIM-ZII!" The dragon Shouted, becoming ghostly and ethereal and passing straight through the wall of arrows unharmed. By the time it returned to a tangible form it was upon them. Runilus was prepared, however, and he released the charged Thunderbolt he had prepared, causing the dragon to drop a few feet before it regained control of itself. During its momentary paralysis, Cassandra capitalized by launching one of her daedric arrows directly into the creature's wing joint, the arrow was impaled so deep that you could only see the feathering. It began attempting to fly, but was much slower now, and the other guards continuously slung arrows at it. Soon enough, it was forced to land nearby, plowing the dirt aside. As it stood, it roared at them, and then Shouted, "TIID-KLO-UL!" followed by, "SU-GRAH-DUN!"

The world around them ground to a halt. The dragon had slowed time, almost to a halt, and then immediately imbued himself with the speed of the wind in order to move like a lightning bolt. Before the Shout wore off, it had already killed half of their dozen guards, as they were the closest enemies. Runilus had recovered his magic quite a bit, and he summoned a lightning storm, an extremely powerful continuous stream of lightning, until he was out of magicka. It wasn't enough. The dragon turned to face him, and Shouted again, "FO-KRAH-DIIN!" and everything in the path of the Shout became extremely cold, with Runilus dead center. As his magicka was still empty, he had to be given a potion of frost resistance by Cassandra in order to even keep alive. Unfortunately, it was unlikely he would be able to return to the battle, as the cold sent him into shock and rendered him unconscious.

The dragon was slowly weakening, but it was still extremely dangerous. They had lost three fourths of their guard to the beast already, and Runilus had just been incapacitated. Gro'bak and Vorald were both too smart to get caught in the dragons jaws, or in the path of its Voice, but they couldn't keep going all day. However, it seemed the dragon could, it still had not died. Cassandra drew an arrow and waited for a moment when the dragon was relatively still. She then fired, the arrow hitting its mark, directly in the dragon's eye. Yet the beast would still not fall.

Knowing that the battle needed to end, and quickly, Vorald climbed onto the creature's neck and grabbed onto its spine. He hefted his axe and drove it into the dragon's skull. There was a crack, but the dragon shook him off and roared, shrieked really. Vorald tried again, but the dragon was prepared, "YOL-TOOR-SHUL!" it Shouted, and Vorald had to leap back to avoid the flames. Gro'bak saw what Vorald was trying to do, and began banging his shield to draw the dragon's attention, shouting insults and lashing out at the monster. As the dragon turned its attention towards Gro'bak, it raked at him with its claws damaging his shield in the process, luckily though, Gro'bak himself was not badly injured. Vorald jumped onto its neck quickly while it was distracted, and smashed the same spot he had slammed down on before, causing the cracks to spread. The dragon was becoming more reckless, more animalistic. It had completely forgotten its Shouts, and its attacks were poorly coordinated, either easily dodged or missing the mark entirely. However, the frequency of its attacks and savagery behind each blow prevented anyone from getting close. Vorald was thrown clear, and knew that he could not try to pierce its skull again. In a moment of clarity, the dragon saw them, and tried to Shout, but had lost the ability to speak "wol-na-kes," it said, and then roared as it was unable to produce the desired effect. As they watched it thrash about, a single arrow appeared in the center of the cracks that Vorald's axe had left, then a second, and a third, until finally the dragon gave off one last roar and collapsed. The few guardsmen left began laughing, crying, even hugging each other at actually having killed the dragon. But then something strange happened.

As Vorald drew closer, the dragon seemed to spontaneously combust, patches of it burning off until it had completely disintegrated. Then, a heavy wind blew out from the skeleton and surrounded him, almost knocking him over, even in his ebony plate. As the wind dissipated, he became overwhelmed, like there was some pent up energy burning in the back of his throat. In a desperate attempt to remove the energy, he unleashed the Thu'um, louder and stronger than ever before, so loud it could be heard from the farthest reaches of the Winterhold to the highest cliffs of the Throat of the World. "YOL-TOOR-SHUL!" The flames surged forth, directly into the sky, startling many of the people nearby. The flame was like a beacon, visible even from Whiterun, a blinding light that no one could look away from.

As the Thu'um died out, he collapsed.

* * *

Gro'bak returned with the three guards still alive to Dragonsreach. Vorald and Runilus were still out cold, so Cassandra was tending to them and gathering what could be found of the men who had died. Joneif would probably help her after the guards were out of sight. But, they still needed to report to the Jarl and the Housecarl what had happened.

As soon as he crossed the palace threshold, Irileth was upon him. "What happened out there? Did you kill the dragon?"

"Yes, we sustained heavy casualties though. These three are what's left alive of your contingent, and two from our group were injured." He then proceeded to give her an account of the battle with the dragon.

She sighed, "I… see. Was there anything left of the men who died?"

"Some, one of us stayed behind to see if we could pick up the pieces and return them here for funeral rites."

"Thank you. Today was a victory, but it doesn't feel right to call it one. The fires in the city have been stopped, but we're still getting reports on the casualties and property damage. I'm sure the Jarl will want to thank each of you personally, but he is too busy to see to you right now, and will probably want to do it with everyone in the room so he only has to do it once. So I'd ask you to stay in the city while we get this under control."

"Of course, I'll let the others know as soon as I am able."

A/N

I don't think the dragon would wait for them at the Western Watchtower. It would attack the city, so Irileth tried to coordinate a defense of the city rather than bringing the guard to where the dragon was last seen for a glorious battle.

Dragons don't really have a cool down time for their shouts, which is why the dragon was able to use a few in quick succession.

In case you didn't pick up on the intended Shouts from their effects in combat, I'll outline them here.

YOL-TOOR-SHUL: Fire Breath

FO-KRAH-DIIN: Frost Breath

FEIM-ZII: Become Ethereal, you can't attack but you can't take damage

TIID-KLO-UL: Slow Time, time slows down, but you move slightly faster than the others under its effect, and you have greater time to react

SU-GRAH-DUN: Elemental Fury, practically useless for the Dragonborn, it makes an unenchanted weapon swing faster, but if the Dragonborn's weapon is enchanted, which almost all of them are, it's no good. But I'm going to say it makes dragons move faster overall, so it would be useful to them.

wol-na-kes: An attempt to say WULD-NAH-KEST, or Whirlwind Sprint. However, as the dragon had sustained brain damage by this point, it came out slurred and therefore useless.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Complications

When Vorald awoke, he was in a bed. It was a fairly comfortable bed, but he wasn't sure how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was looking at the corpse of the dragon, then, nothing. He got out of the bed and saw that someone had laid his gear out on the nearby table, so he began collecting it. He stepped into the hallway, and saw an elderly servant dusting up nearby. "Excuse me, ma'am, but where am I?"

She looked up to him in surprise, but the shock quickly faded. "You are in Dragonsreach, the Jarl provided you with one of his guest rooms."

"Okay, um, how did I get here?"

"A Redguard brought you in here. He was very rude, I don't believe he said more than one word to me. When I asked him what I was doing, he only told me the Jarl had ordered you be put here. Except he di-"

"Okay, I get it. You wouldn't happen to know where the others who came to Whiterun with me are, would you?" He asked, interrupting her little tirade.

"Hmph. They each got rooms here in the palace. You could look there I suppose." She answered in an annoyed tone of voice.

"Thank you. Um, you wouldn't mind showing the way would you?"

"I would mind, yes. Kids these days, always asking for more and more. Why-"

"Please, ma'am, just some directions. I haven't been this far into Dragonsreach before."

"Fine, down the hall, first door on your left."

"Thanks." After he'd gotten the directions and past the incredibly awkward situation, he made his way towards where she'd directed him. The first room he found was much like the room he had woken up in, with a large comfortable looking bed that was occupied by Cassandra. Vorald backed out slowly, the God sleeping unnerved him to no end, but before he could fully retreat she lifted her head and made eye contact with him. She swung her legs up over the edge of the mattress and sat on the bed, looking up at him.

"Good, you're awake. You slept well, I trust?" She held up a hand to forestall his reply. "Don't answer that. The Jarl wants to speak with us, I assume it's the usual. 'Oh, thank you for saving my city! We are forever indebted to you! Would you give my baby your blessing?!'" She fell back against the bed and gave an exasperated sigh, then sat up again, "Just you pray to the Gods that everyone and their mothers and their dogs too don't start calling you 'Hero of Whiterun.' Gods that was awkward. Even now, all people know about me, my life, who I am, is that I saved Kvatch and was instrumental in defeating Dagon. No mention of where I came from, or where I went, or even what gender I am, although I suppose that second one is fair. I did basically vanish off the face of the world."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll just be going now."

"I'm a light sleeper, you woke me as soon as you opened the door. It's just because this bed is really comfortable and I feel like I haven't been sleeping well for an era, probably because I haven't been, that I didn't get up sooner. If you don't mind though, I'm going to sleep again." With that, she fell back against mattress and was asleep instantly.

Vorald closed the door and moved on to the next room, which was empty. The next room over, had Runilus massaging his sore muscles from when he had been injured. During the fight with the dragon, he had taken the brunt of one of the dragon's ice breath attacks, and it caused his muscles to lock up in uncomfortable positions before he had thawed enough to relax his body. He looked up as Vorald entered, then spoke. "What is it that you want from me? Have I not performed adequately enough by getting injured during_ your_ fight with that dragon?"

Vorald frowned, "Wow, are you just trying to be an ass? Do you know where the others are?"

"I have not had much opportunity to vacate the confines of this room, but I believe Gro'bak and Joneif mentioned something about a sparring match to attempt to pass the time before you woke up and the Jarl was ready to speak to us. I do not know where Cassandra is."

"I just saw her. I think she has a habit of sleeping as long as she can whenever a bed is available."

Runilus shrugged his shoulders, "Perhaps she seeks to emulate her human nature whenever possible. Attempt to keep a portion of herself as her, and not some eccentric God."

"Maybe." At a loss for anything else to do, Vorald left the room. He decided that he would go seek out the other two, maybe even join them. After a… actually, he didn't know how long he'd been on bed rest, but he assumed it had been for some time, he was thinking he might spar with them and get himself back in shape.

After a while, he realized he was once again lost within the Palace. Vorald sighed, and looked around for someone who could help him out. Suddenly, he got a burning in the back of his throat, and he became overwhelmed, much the same as when he had just killed the dragon. "WULD-NAH-KEST!" The Thu'um exploded out of him, causing him to zip down the corridor and slam, face first, into the wall. As he fell backwards, right on his ass, he looked upwards and saw stars from the force of the collision. He reached upwards and drew his hand down his face, then pulled it away. As he removed it, he saw that his hand was red, and realized that he had hit his nose, and it was bleeding. "Perfect. What the fuck is happening to me?" He muttered under his breath as he stood to attempt to find medical help.

_You are like a youngling, with no control over his Voice. This is the mighty Dovahkin? This world is doomed._

Vorald looked up quickly, and began glancing around. "What in Oblivion? I could have sworn I heard something."

_You will never defeat Alduin. He is a master of the Voice. A God. You are mortal, and weak. You are like a blind man who can suddenly see, assaulted by previously unknown sensations, unsure of what to do with yourself._

"Okay. What was that? Who are you? Show yourself!"

_Even now, you grasp for that which you can understand. I am no tangible being you may interact with, I am you. Our souls are intertwined, but only now have I been, awakened, when you slew Mirmulnir. I am your dovah sil. I am Kruziikahsos, ancient blood hunter in your mortal tongue. I suppose this is my punishment for leaving the fight against the mortals. To be killed and reborn in… this. _The dragon spoke with disgust.

"Wait, what? There's a dragon in my head?"

_You continue to fulfill my lowest expectations of you. I am not inside of your puny skull, our souls are linked together on the most fundamental level._

"Gods, you're so bad you're making me wish for conversation with the elf."

_You are all mortal. The span of one puny mortal's life being longer than another puny mortal's is irrelevant. You will still die._

"If we're so inferior than why were we able to kill one of you? And before we killed that dragon, mortals exterminated your race."

_We were outnumbered and divided, by the absence of Alduin, and those mortals used the Voice. _N_ow, we will be united, and you will be disorganized and unprepared. The dov will return in the coming conflict, and they will succeed._

"Yeah, well, I'll stop them." Vorald couldn't think of anything else to say.

_You sound so confident. _The dragon replied sarcastically._ I suppose this is the time when we all begin shaking in fear as you approach? You will do everything in your power, and you will fail, which is why you will need my help._

"What?! You taunt me and then offer your services! That doesn't make any sense at all!"

_I do not wish to die again. If that means I must preserve this fragile mortal body for you and help you to defeat Alduin, so be it. Even if we are doomed, I must at least make the attempt to keep alive._

"Oh, I can just tell this is going to work out great. I need a healer."

_Why do you not simply use your Thu'um to staunch the blood flow?_

"Oh, I dunno, maybe because I don't know how?"

_The words you are looking for are laas, sos, and vokrii._

Vorald frowned, then began trying to build the energy at the back of his throat. Suddenly, he was overcome by the physical need to Shout, but made sure to control it long enough that he used the right words. As he lay on the ground, panting, he reached up to his face and all of the blood was gone, now dried up and no longer fleeing his nostrils. "Well, I suppose I'd better get cleaned up now. Time to find a servant and some directions."

* * *

Gro'bak was losing. Unfortunate, really. He and Joneif had both needed to do something, so they came to the guards' sparring ring just outside of the palace. After decimating the guards in various one-on-one, two-on-one, even some three-on-one matches, they'd just decided to fight each other. Now, the merc was having trouble keeping up. He just couldn't match the wolf's animalistic strength and agility, and as they were fighting bare-knuckled, he didn't have the advantage of greater experience.

Joneif gave off what sounded like a growl, then charged. Gro'bak was prepared to turn him aside into the dirt, but at the last second he broke the charge and swiped at him, ramming his entire right arm with all of his momentum right into Gro'bak's chest, knocking him to the ground. The orc laid there for a second, before deciding it wasn't worth it and staying there. His acquiescence was met with a mixture of cheers and frustrated groans from the ring of guards that had gathered around during their fight, and he looked up long enough to see fairly sizeable money purses changing hands. 'They were taking bets on our fight? Guess we ruined the guards' day in more ways than one. I almost feel bad, we already humiliated them.'

Joneif was already walking towards the bridge that lead to the main hall of Dragonsreach, but instead of getting on the bridge he jumped into the water to begin greedily drinking while swimming through it to cool off. "That water probably isn't clean, you must know." A now seated Gro'bak warned. Joneif looked at him briefly, then went back to what he had been doing. "Right, go ahead and ignore me. Just trying to keep you from getting sick."

"I don't get sick." Was the curt reply.

"Of course you don't." Gro'bak said before standing up and walking towards the door to the Palace. "I'm going back to my room, let me know when the Jarl decides he needs us." Joneif didn't even acknowledge him.

As Gro'bak walked through the Palace and into his rooms, he ran into Vorald walking through the halls, slightly damp. "Oh, you're awake. That's good, the Jarl should send for us any minute now. Not sure what he wants to talk about though."

"Cassanda didn't seem optimistic when I talked to her. She seems to think he's going to want to honor us."

"Probably, although, as the one who absorbed that thing's soul, he's probably going to focus on you. Also, you're the only Nord."

"Okay, what does that have to do with anything?"

"You really think he's going to want to credit an Orc or a High Elf with saving his city? He'll probably mention us, thank Cassandra and Joneif, than give you all the real praise and rewards."

"Um… I don't… I-"

"It's alright, I won't hold it against you. Honestly, I'm used to this kind of attitude in humans. You don't have to apologize."

"Uh, right. Okay. Gods, I think I should have stayed in bed today."

"Well, I'm headed back to our rooms now, so I suppose you could pretend like you never got out of bed."

"Right."

The two made their way towards the rooms. When they arrived, Vorald began cleaning his weapons and armor that were still dirty from the battle with the dragon. Gro'bak, meanwhile, began reading a book he had borrowed from the Jarl's Palace. They sat there until the afternoon, when a young boy, a courier, approached them and told them that the Jarl had requested their presence as soon as all five could be assembled. They all wore their armor, if they had any, as the Jarl would respect that more than finery from them.

As they entered the throne room, they all moved to stand before the Jarl, seated on his throne. When they all arrived and were standing still, he spoke, "I would like to begin by thanking each of you for your valiant service in the defense of this city. You cannot know how thankful I am for your timely intervention." He turned to Vorald, "I understand that you are the leader of this band of heroes?"

Vorald was flattered, he had never considered himself a hero before. "Uh, theoretically, yes, my lord. I mean, I make final decisions, but I didn't do any of this alone. Cassandra here was the driving force for action to retrieve the Dragonstone, and Gro'bak here formed the plan for taking down the dragon. I just helped."

"Your humility speaks volumes for your character. But, it is true that you killed the dragon?"

"Yes, I suppose it was ultimately me that killed it when, well, I'm not sure what happened, but I think I may have absorbed its soul."

"You _absorbed_ its soul?!" The Jarl asked, incredulously, "So it's true, what the guards are saying about you? You are Dragonborn."

"Uh, it would appear so. My Jarl." He added quickly. He was starting to get uncomfortable with all of the attention and praise, and there was that nagging feeling that he was only really being singled out because he was the Nord of the group.

"Well, to thank you for your immeasurable service to the city, I would bestow upon you the greatest honor it is within my power to give. I will make you the Thane of Whiterun." Vorald was speechless. Him, a _Thane_! He had never imagined such a thing, not since he was a child. All of his companions were still quiet, as the ceremony was still underway. "Here, take this. It is the Axe of Whiterun, a badge of office if you will." The weapon was a steel battleax, finely honed and apparently enchanted to absorb stamina. However, he didn't see himself using it much as his ebony battleax was still superior. "And I have told Proventus to give you property within the city. A house called Breezehome in the Plains District. It is a small, but comfortable home."

He then turned to the rest of the companions, and spoke to them, "But do not think I have forgotten your service and sacrifices. I will grant each of you a boon if it is within my power to give."

Gro'bak thought for a few seconds about what a human lord could do for him. "What I'd really like is a new shield. My previous one got trashed during the fight."

"I will commission Euorland Gray-Mane to make you the finest shield he can manage."

Runilus also thought about what he could get. He didn't need arms or armor, because he was a mage untrained in their use, and far more lethal without them. He didn't need any spellbooks either, as he already knew the most common spells, even if he wasn't always the most talented. Protection from Thalmor was not something the ruler could grant, and he already had it from Cassandra. "The only thing I can think of that would be of any use is gold. Do you think that a dead dragon is worth about fifteen thousand?" Wealth was power, if he had money he could use it to deflect suspicion.

"Don't push your luck elf. But I will grant this request. You may have ten thousand septims."

Runilus shrugged, "Very well."

Cassandra was the next in the line, but she seemed to be staring off into space. When the Jarl cleared his throat, she started, then looked up. "Oh, um, I don't really want anything. Just consider this dragon a freebie. Heh, Cassandra the Dragonslayer, who would've thought? And since it was my arrow that killed this dragon, I can use that title accurately." She looked up to see them all staring at her. "And I was still talking out loud wasn't I? This is what happens when you interrupt my internal monologue." She sighed, then shook her head, and stared into the floor.

They all shifted their attention towards Joneif, who simply responded with, "I need nothing from you, human." The Jarl seemed to start at this, then glared at him, then simply became confused. Why would a redguard refer to himself as inhuman? He then returned his attention to Vorald.

"Right, well, you should go see your new home, there should be enough room for each of your companions if you purchase cots for them from Belethor at the general goods store."

Vorald was still speechless, but managed to stammer out a, "My thanks, my Jarl," before practically running away from the throne room, he was leaving at such a brisk pace.

A/N

I thought it was ridiculous that Balgruuf would make a Khajit, Orc, or Argonian Thane of the city, no matter how grateful he was. An elf would be unlikely, but not impossible to make a Thane, and any non-Nord human would be considered, but it wouldn't have been given as freely as with a Nord. Really the only place your race matters in-game is within the Thalmor Embassy trying to sneak around. And then it's only if you feel like sneaking after the initial infiltration. Although I can't say Dragon Age is much different, although they are slightly better about making races matter. Aside from comments like "Oh look, this group is led by an elf, how strange," no one questions your position as leader. Seriously, Dalish elf (forest elves who reject the domination of humans. Think Native Americans, as I'm fairly sure that the Dalish were modeled after their culture to some extent. Although instead of trying to find new land or reclaim their old land, the Dalish simmer in their own anger, but realize that they are impotent to change their lot in life. As a result they tend to be ignored, so they aren't hunted like the Native Americans were.) or mage warden can get the respect of the Landsmeet as much as a Cousland, one of the most highly respected noble houses of Ferelden. And mages and Dalish are practically the monsters under the bed that the good little Andrastians use to scare their children into being good. Anyway, some subtle racism will be apparent in this story if it is applicable.

Wow, sorry about the long-winded Dragon Age comparison. I had to explain the Dalish in some understandable fashion for readers who haven't played Dragon Age to be able to get it. Although the explanation was a bit too simple, it's a little more complicated than what I wrote, and because I had to leave parts out it was probably confusing.

Dragon translations:

Kruziik- ancient

Sos- blood

Ah- hunter

Laas- life

Vokrii- restore


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: The Call of the Graybeards

As Vorald stepped into Breezehome, he took stock of the house. It was a bit cramped, but would house a small family nicely. However, Vorald's companions were bigger than a small family. As Cassandra didn't truly need sleep, and there was a bed available to Vorald, they only needed to find room for three cots. It looked like the alchemy lab would fit two, and there was plenty of room upstairs for another. There was still some room left over if they managed to accumulate even more people, but it would be tighter and tighter the more that appeared.

As he began helping the others to set up their beds, the door opened and a woman in steel armor walked in. "Which one of you is the new Thane?" She asked in a polite tone.

Everybody turned to look at Vorald, and he realized he should respond. "Uh…that would be me. I'm Vorald." The woman dropped to her knee before him, and lowered her head. "My name is Lydia. I pledge myself to be your Housecarl. Your burdens become my burdens. I will serve you loyally, and faithfully until my body no longer draws breath." When she was finished, she stood again to meet his gaze. "Now that that's out of the way, I can speak a little more freely. I will do anything you require of me, my Thane." Vorald was speechless, he could not think of anything to say that wouldn't sound idiotic, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Why is it that the Nord gets a manservant when I do not? It is simply criminal." Runilus said sarcastically.

"Runilus, play nice. He gets a manservant because he's nobility now. I'm sure you had plenty you left behind in the Dominion." Cassandra chastised him.

"True enough. Still, I was actually injured fighting that dragon. Should I not be compensated for that?"

"What about the ten thousand gold?"

"Oh yes. There is that." He said, walking over to his sack of gold that the Jarl had provided him with to pat it.

"Um, hello? The 'manservant' is right here." Lydia spoke, irritation and mild anger present in her voice. "And furthermore, I don't do things such as keep his house clean; I guard his person and his home."

"You stated that you would do anything required of you by him." Runilus replied.

"Anything does not mean everything, elf. I'm a warrior; I'm not required to perform menial labor."

Runilus started smirking, and then replied with, "But you claim you would do anything necessary. You would not want to compromise your honor by breaking your word would you?" As he finished speaking, Vorald looked irritated while Lydia started gritting her teeth. "Permission to beat this little shit senseless, my Thane?"

"Please do." Vorald said, a dangerous grin spreading across his face.

As she began walking towards Runilus with purpose in her step, a panicked look crossed his face before he disappeared. Cassandra glanced into a particular corner of the room, then said, "You really have a talent for pissing people off don't you? I'm of half a mind to just let her at you, actually, I'm of a full mind to let her at you. He's over in that corner Lydia." She said, gesturing into a dark section of the main room. "Careful though, he's invisible right now." As Lydia began walking in that direction, he reappeared briefly. Runilus shrugged his shoulders, then said, "What can I say? It is a gift." Then he immediately sped for the door and was in the city before Lydia could run him down, although she did pursue him into the streets.

"How did you know that he was in the corner?" Gro'bak asked her when he had left.

"Easy, it's the best hiding place in the room." At his surprised glance, she elaborated. "What, you were expecting some magic sixth sense God power? I was Thieves' Guild before I was a champion." She said before also exiting the house.

Joneif descended the stairs, then said, "I have finished building my dwelling area for the night." He walked out the front door without another word. Gro'bak shrugged his shoulders and followed the Redguard out.

"Right, and then there was one. Know what, fuck it. I need to sleep to get over today's disturbingly normal levels of crazy." Vorald muttered to the empty room before climbing into the loft and jumping into bed.

* * *

As Cassandra was walking through the residential area of Whiterun, she saw the devastation from the dragon's attack. The Temple of Kynareth had its roof burned off, and several of the houses had been damaged or completely destroyed. Whiterun would need time to recover, that was for sure. Hopefully they wouldn't have to deal with another dragon attack to the city.

She continued her exploration of the area, now finding herself in the Market District. As she moved on from the heart of the crowd towards the fringes, she was suddenly grabbed and dragged into an alleyway with a knife at her throat and a hand smothering her mouth to prevent any screaming. When she and her assailant were out of the eyesight of bystanders, the dagger was removed from her throat and she was slammed against the wall, with her arm held by the attacker so she was pinned against it.

"Now, let's continue our discussion from the other day. What do you know of the Blades?" Cassandra now recognized the woman as the Blade who had been in Dragonsreach before the battle with the dragons.

"Um, I don't know much. They were founded as dragon hunters, but became the personal bodyguards and spies of the Emperor when Tiber Septim, a Dragonborn, one of the greatest dragon hunters wa-"

"You know quite a bit. Now who are you? Why are you looking for me?"

"Would you believe it was all a coincidence?" Cassandra asked, hopeful that she'd be taken seriously.

"No." The voice was hard, and held no argument. "Who are you? I ask only one more time."

"I don't have to tell you anything. But I do want to tell you things as I'll probably need your help at some point. Fine. I am the Hero of Kvatch, Champion of Cyrodiil, and I became Sheogorath shortly after the Oblivion Crisis, which is why I look so young. I-"

"Bullshit. I commend you for coming up with a lie so unbelievable that a weak mind would assume that it had to be the truth. But I am not weak. Who are you really? Are you working for the Thalmor?" She asked, an accusing tone in her voice.

"What! Of course not! They are a bunch of evil, stupid, rotten, fucking bastards. I'd never _work_ for them! You have to believe me!"

After some consideration, the woman sheathed her blade. "I don't." She replied in a cold voice as she moved her hands before Cassandra would be able to react and snapped her neck. Cassandra watched though dead eyes as the woman walked away and disappeared into the crowd, holding off her revival until she was gone.

As the purple, unholy light surrounded her body, she heard Talos speak to her. _She is a disgrace to what the Blades stood for. But, I suppose extreme paranoia will do that to a person._ Talos said when she was gone.

Cassandra stood up and rolled her neck, hearing the joints pop back into place. Then she stretched out her muscles by extending her arms over her head and letting them fall back to her sides slowly. _Yep. But she's not really my problem right now._

* * *

As the days passed by, the group continued to help in the rebuilding efforts, at a loss for anything else to do. It seemed everyone in the city was trying to help in some way or another.

However, over that time Vorald had continued to Shout, as randomly as though he were sneezing. It was a miracle that no one had been hurt yet, as he always managed to direct it away from crowds. Finally though, Cassandra dragged him aside as he erupted yet again. "This needs to stop. The Shouting. I haven't seen people without spiders in their pants this nervous, ever."

Vorald frowned, "I don't know what's happening. One moment I feel fine, then the next I have the burning need to Shout, and then I'm breathing fire or becoming ethereal or something. Then there's the stupid voice in my head telling me I shouldn't care, or that if people don't get out of my way they deserve whatever happens to them." He had told them about the supposed ancient dragon within his soul. It had been alarming at first, but was quickly accepted when they considered the other crazy things that had happened.

"What you really need is some training of some kind. There must be some way to master that dragon soul of yours." As soon as she finished speaking, in what seemed to be divine intervention, or perhaps simply ironic coincidence, a thundering Shout rolled down the hills from the Throat of the World. "DO-VAH-KIN!" As the Shout subsided, people seemed to glance about in confusion.

"Well that went better than expected. I think the Greybeards want to talk to you. Or perhaps they want to kill you in a bloody, gory mess. You never really know do you? Or maybe they want to have you walk up that mountain so they can give you cheese! I wonder if they make good cheese at High Hrothgar?" Cassandra started rambling a bit.

"I think we should probably have a word with the Jarl. He might know more." He replied. The two began walking towards the Cloud District. As they passed by the big tree at the base of the Palace steps, they saw Gro'bak carrying his new shield down from the Skyforge. Ebony quality, the Jarl really had commissioned the best. He passed by them without a word, probably searching for a place to test its weight and integrity.

As they reached the Jarl's palace, they saw him already seated on his throne, looking contemplative. As they approached, he looked up and spoke to them. "The call of the Greybeards, such a thing has not happened since the days of Tiber Septim himself. You must go, my friend. It would not be wise to ignore their summons." The Jarl's tone grew wistful, "I envy you, you know? To climb the seven thousand steps again, then to actually be permitted to speak with the Greybeards!"

"My Jarl, you climbed the seven thousand steps?" Vorald asked him.

"I did, once, in my youth."

"Is there anything you can tell me about the Greybeards? Aside from the fact that they are masters of the Voice, I don't know much." Vorald asked. He needed to know what kind of people he'd be dealing with, and if they could really help him.

"They are monks who dedicate their entire lives to the worship of the Gods through mastery of the Voice atop the Throat of the World at the fortress of High Hrothgar. It is very… peaceful, at High Hrothgar. Very removed from the problems of the world. Sometimes I wonder if the Greybeards even notice what's going on in the world around them." The Jarl replied.

"So then, I suppose we must be leaving for High Hrothgar soon."

"Yes. I would say that I am sorry to see you go, but perhaps it is for the best. People have been complaining about your Voice, maybe the Greybeards can teach you to control it."

As they left the Palace, Cassandra started talking again, although she had remained mercifully silent before the Jarl. "Oh good, we're leaving! I was this close to becoming completely and irrevocably bored in this city!" She said, even pinching the air to indicate just how close she had been. "Out on the road, killing bandits and bunnies, and, and dragons too! This is going to be exciting!" She continued to talk, alternating between romanticizing their future adventures and going over things they needed to do, as they made their way towards Breezehome.

When they arrived, they began packing as much of their equipment as possible, then Vorald went out to purchase a few essentials that they did not have for what they estimated to be a week-long trip to Ivarstead. As night fell, the various companions returned to the house for the night, each wondering what was going on. When they were all there, they assembled in the living room to discuss the next step.

Vorald stood before them, and cleared his throat before speaking. "I'm sure the lot of you heard the Shout today, Dovahkin. Well, it turns out that Dovahkin means Dragonborn in the dragon tongue, and that it was me being summoned by the Greybeards. We assume that they want to help me master my Voice, but we don't really know for sure exactly what it is they want. In order to answer the summons, we leave for Ivarstead in the morning, it will be about a week on the road."

"That is reassuring to hear. The other day I could have sworn you were attempting to burn my arm when you narrowly avoided me with that cannon-like Voice of yours." Runilus said, somewhat snarky. He was still bitter about the incident, even if he knew that the Nord hadn't done it intentionally.

"So are we all going to High Hrothgar, or are you climbing the Throat of the World alone?" Gro'bak asked.

"I don't know. Let's cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Why are we sitting here? If we know where our destination is we should just go now." Joneif added.

"We need to sleep. Well, _we_ don't _need_ to sleep, they need to sleep, but I, personally, would like to sleep." Cassandra replied.

"Wait, why wouldn't you need to sleep?" Lydia asked. When nobody answered her, she just moved on, "Nevermind. What are your orders for me, my Thane?"

"Orders? What do you mean?" Vorald asked her, confused.

"Do you want me to travel with you and continue to guard you?"

Vorald thought about it. She did not know that Joneif was a werewolf or that Cassandra was a daedra, and she had still never really forgiven Runilus for their first meeting. Although it wasn't as though he had been begging for it. If anything he probably degraded his relationship with her further the more time they spent together. It would be easier if she just stayed behind, besides, then if anyone came looking for him there would be someone who could answer questions on his behalf. "I'd like you to stay here and deal with anybody looking for me, and keep vagrants out of this house. I don't want the place to be looted because I'm gone." The only thing of value he really had that he didn't keep on his person was the Axe of Whiterun, now hanging over the doorway. Still, it wouldn't be right if his 'badge of office' went missing. Although Runilus had asked to hide his money he couldn't carry within the house, as a cache in case the group needed it.

"As you wish, my Thane."

"Well, I suppose all that's left is to tell you to have a good night's sleep and be prepared to move an hour after dawn. I want to make it to the base of the Throat of the World by nightfall, so we can have a point of reference to get around to arrive in Ivarstead." With that, they all bid each other a good night.

A/N

Originally, I was going to have Lydia become one of the companions, but I later changed it when I realized that the skill in the group was a bit overkill. She wasn't as skilled as the others, didn't bring anything to the table someone else didn't, and she was relatively uninteresting, so I reduced her to a cameo.

I also have sad news to report. I'm going to have to put this story on an indefinite temporary hiatus. Poor time management and tons of school shit have conspired to kill my buffer, so I don't have a complete chapter to post next week. Once I get the buffer back I'll post again, although I might come back with every other week rather than weekly updates. Again, I apologize.

One more thing, I've gotten lots of good feedback through reviews as I have been writing this, but most of it is entirely positive affirmation. I don't think I've gotten a single negative review yet (at least one that criticizes me or my writing.) While I do appreciate it, I'm a bit concerned as well, as I don't know if there are people reading this who have questions or concerns about my writing since they stay silent. So if you happen to have an issue, go ahead and mention it! Even if you really like everything about the story and the review is laden with praise, if there's that one mediocre or inconsistent element that you don't like go ahead and tell me about it. And this totally isn't a scheme to get more reviews while I am gone. Nope, not at all.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: The Journey Begins

"Are we there yet?" Casandra asked aloud in a very irritating voice, like a child's really.

"We make camp at the base of that mountain, after that, it will take a few more days to arrive in Ivarstead." Vorald responded, annoyed.

"Oh. Are we there yet now?"

"We're no closer than when you asked literally ten seconds ago." Vorald replied, even more annoyed than before.

"Hm… are we-" She began, but was soon interrupted by Vorald.

"If you're that bored why don't you go find some woodland critter to slaughter?"

Cassandra brightened at the prospect, "Yes! It feels like it's been _ages _since I last killed something! I wonder if there are bunnies out here." She began muttering, trailing off. They were well away from the city, a few miles from the area where they had first met Runilus. There were plains as far as they could see in most directions, but there was a forest several miles to the south, and their destination, the Throat of the World, looming in the east. They were still about a half day from where they planned to camp.

Gro'bak was walking in front of them, Joneif was out of sight but near enough, and Runilus was walking some distance from Cassandra and Vorald, pretending he didn't hear them. Before Cassandra could run off, Gro'bak signaled a halt, and pointed straight ahead to a group of armed men some distance away. "You see the people over there? They aren't a threat in and of themselves, but we should be on guard as we approach their camp." He warned.

With the warning, they continued on in silence. After an hour or so they arrived at the campsite, where a group of mercenaries was resting and recovering after a battle with a group of bandits, the corpses lying on the ground some distance away. "Be careful travelers, you enter the camp of the Iron Hand mercenaries." One man sitting on a box nearby told them. When he laid eyes on Gro'bak, he did a double take. "Well, as I live and breathe. If I'm not mistaken you are Gro'bak the Steel Hearted, right?"

"I've never liked that nickname, but yes."

"Steel Hearted?" Vorald looked to him with a quizzical expression.

"Ha! You didn't know his reputation before you hired him?" The man laughed, "I assume that this is a typical escort job, yes? Although these people hardly look like they need protection. Anyways, I heard that he once had a choice between saving an entire village filled with children, and chasing down the man who had put them in danger, the man he was hunting down. He chose the contract. That's how he got the nickname, for his willingness to do anything to finish the job."

Gro'bak frowned, "That never happened. I got the nickname when I was hired to kill a noble, convinced the noble to hire me, and then killed him to complete the mission." At Gro'bak's words, Runilus got a surprised look on his face, then slowly began backing away. Cassandra had already gotten bored and wandered off, presumably to cull the local wildlife.

The man waved his hand dismissively, before opening his mouth to speak, "Mere semantics. Listen, we at the Iron Hand could use a guy like you. You've got your head on straight, and we need more experienced warriors. I'm the Captain of this outfit, and we are gathering reputation quite quickly. I believe you can make us much better that we are now. So what do you say? A stable pay check means that you won't have to live between jobs anymore."

Gro'bak frowned, "Sorry, but I work solo."

"Oh come on! Don't be like that! Look, I'm sure with your skill you could easily become a leader, probably even second in command, in no time at all."

It was tempting, he did have to admit. He'd heard of the Iron Hand, and they did have quite the reputation. If anything, they were better than the man before him was making them out to be. Still though, he'd never worked for anyone before, at least not with any loyalty beyond a contract. However… it would be a waste to let something like precedent stand between him and this opportunity. The leader of the group had just said that he could be second-in-command, and he was smart enough to realize the second could be the true leader without being the one to get blamed for mistakes. Maybe he could go with them. He'd lose his contract with his current companions, but that wouldn't matter really. Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure that he wanted to leave. Sure this outfit was downright insane, and that was excluding the literal bastion of insanity in the form of Cassandra, but they had grown on him. Besides, even if they didn't really need his help, could he live with himself if he found out several years later, when dragons were destroying the world, that he could have made a difference? It was tempting to accept the man's offer, but he would have to decline.

"I'm sorry, but I can't join you. My current job is too important for me to just leave." Gro'bak replied honestly. Vorald and Runilus both looked surprised, they had seen the indecision on the mercenary's face, and assumed he would leave. Gro'bak himself was surprised that he had actually displayed loyalty to the group.

The captain, however, was confused, "What? Is this about money? Look, what are they paying you? Whatever it is, I'll double it."

Gro'bak's eyes widened. "You don't even know how much I'm getting paid. How can you afford to make such promises?"

The man simply shrugged, "We have quite a bit of money. And I think you would make quite the investment."

The deal became even more tempting, but then Gro'bak imagined Alduin destroying everything, and he took a deep breath. "That's quite a generous offer, but I really need to refuse." Runilus and Vorald were both to a jaw-dropping state. They had held no hope that he would stay with them with an offer like that.

The man looked disappointed, a bit frustrated, and even slightly angry. "Oh. I see. Well, fine. I think it would be best if you leave now." His look softened a little. "Please reconsider. You wouldn't want to regret this decision."

"I already don't regret it. If we're not welcome here, that's fine; we needed to get moving anyway." Gro'bak spoke in a tone of finality, the conversation over.

* * *

It was getting close to dusk when the group arrived at the mountain's base. As the path between their camp and Ivarstead was full of hills and valleys, as well as snaking around the mountain, they estimated taking at least three days to get there.

They set up a small campsite, with three small tents in a row and a campfire a short distance away. Cassandra would not sleep, and if Joneif could manage any sleep he preferred to do it on the forest floor without any camping equipment. As the resident hunters, Cassandra and Joneif had both captured plenty of food, which was then eaten. Unfortunately, Joneif had eaten all of his when he killed it, leaving them with what Cassandra had caught. So they all sat in front of the fire, watching a rotisserie of rabbit carcasses spin over the fire.

They all sat in silence, not really having much to say to each other, until Cassandra started humming a tune from her prone position on the ground. She continued for several minutes in peace, until Joneif snapped. "Would you cut that out?!"

Cassandra stopped, then propped herself up on her elbows so she was facing Joneif, "Make me." She said, and then completed the taunt by sticking her tongue out at him in a childish manner. Joneif started snarling at her, but she then dropped back to her original position and started humming again, completely oblivious

"Just, stop already!" He snapped out, exasperated and annoyed with her.

"Do you have anything better to do?" She asked.

"I wouldn't mind sparring you."

"Fine, whatever." She said, but made no move to stand.

"Usually that involves you preparing in some way to fight."

Cassandra sighed in exasperation, before rising to her feet in a great show of reluctance and then dropping into her fighting stance. She was unarmed and unarmored. "That's it?" Joneif asked sarcastically, also getting into a fighting stance.

"I don't really feel like wasting any time trying to get my armor on. Besides, it would be unfair if I used armor or a weapon."

Joneif snarled again, "So, what then? I'm not a threat to you?"

Cassandra blinked, "What kind of question is that? Of course you're not. On top of being a God, I'm a world-renowned warrior. What makes you think you can fight evenly with me?" The rest of the companions watched the unfolding events with mild concern, but mostly with amusement as they saw that Joneif was trying to pick a fight with the God. Some wondered why, but their questions were answered when they looked up and saw the full moon. It was a well-known fact that werewolves became more aggressive and lost some of their control when the moon was full. It was just that time of the month for Joneif.

Snarling, Joneif transformed into a full werewolf and charged Cassandra. The bystanders felt sorry for Joneif. As he got close to her, she ducked down and punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Rolling away from the werewolf, she grabbed a fistful of dust and threw it into his eyes. She finished up with a kick to the crotch while he was stunned from the sand in the eyes, causing the wolf to be launched into the air a foot or two and land about a meter away. Joneif reverted to human form on the ground, and then passed out from the pain shooting through his body.

"That was dirty." Gro'bak stated, although he didn't seem to be judgmental.

"Yeah, going right for the balls like that," Vorald shuddered, "I could feel his pain from all the way over here."

"Whatever. He started it. And I would've gone easy if he hadn't completely attacked me. The claws were out, so I was perfectly one hundred percent justified. There's no such thing as a fair fight anyway, I thought you two would have learned that by now." She rolled her eyes and sprawled on the ground once again. "Now, does anyone else want to start something? No? Good." There was a temporary silence for a few moments, "Does anyone have a lemon tarte? I've found the sudden craving for pastries."

"Noo, we didn't bring anything like that with us." Vorald reminded her.

Cassandra frowned, "Hm, pity that. Oh well. At least we have grilled bunny here."

The silence in the group was painfully awkward since Cassandra had knocked out Joneif, but she seemed oblivious to it, and had gone back to humming her tune. In an attempt to break the silence, Gro'bak glanced around the group, "Hey, Runilus, did I ever tell you about the time that I got in trouble with the guard for killing a bandit?"

Cassandra immediately perked up, "Ooooh, sounds like a story! You have to tell it, you just have to!"

Gro'bak just held up a hand, "Alright, alright. I'll tell you. Well, it started out when I was…"

* * *

Gro'bak had been passing through High Rock. He had become a mercenary to have adventures, although he knew the life often wasn't that glamorous. Just recently, a woman had approached him in the streets to ask him to kill a bandit group, offering him five hundred gold for the job. She must've heard of him. He had gathered intelligence to find out what kind of opposition he would find, although surprisingly little was known. By the time he was actually finished with the job, he felt slightly insulted at the simplicity of the task. They could hardly even be classified as a threat. Still, he received his payment and moved on.

As he was walking through the city a few days later, he saw a group of guards notice him and begin walking his way. Gro'bak raised an eyebrow as he realized that the guards wanted to speak to him. "Is there a problem, guardsmen?" He asked as politely as he could manage.

"Yes, there's a problem. You're wanted for the murder of Danstar Vannrrane, the son of the local lord."

Gro'bak frowned, brow knitting together in confusion. "What are you talking about? I don't know that name."

"There's no point denying it orc. An eyewitness confirmed that it was you."

"Do you have any idea how flimsy that evidence is? Can I at least speak with this eyewitness?"

The guard snorted, "Don't be ridiculous. It's already obvious that it's you, why bother wasting the time. All you orcs do is murder. Now, you can come quietly, or we can do this the hard way, which is it going to be?"

"How about the way where you at least give me a chance to find out what's going on?"

"So it's going to be the hard way then. Fair enough." The man drew his sword, along with his allies. Gro'bak knew that he didn't have much chance of escape, not unless a miracle happened. Fortunately for him, a large crowd began exiting a nearby theater in unison. He jumped at the chance and ran straight for the crowd, weaving through the patrons. Eventually he managed to shake off the guards enough to find a hiding place away from where they would be looking. He got out of the city as quickly as he could without being spotted.

* * *

Gro'bak yawned at this moment. "I'm kind of tired. I think that I'll turn in now."

Cassandra frowned, "No! Don't leave yet! You still haven't told us what happened! Was there an execution? Or did you eviscerate all your enemies? Ooooh! I know! Everyone got together and started singing about peace and forgiveness!" She started guessing randomly.

"None of those. I found out the woman who wanted me to kill the bandits had framed me. She was the lady of the estate and wanted me to get rid of her husband's bastard, who would run with a gang in rebellion against his father. She manipulated me well, even turning me in to the guard when people started asking questions about where he had gone."

"So? Did you ever get revenge?"

"No, revenge against her would have been a waste of time. I just didn't care enough to come after her, especially since there was no way that I would be able to reach her to make the kill anyway."

Gro'bak stood and made his way to his tent, and the others soon followed, leaving Cassandra to wait for the next day.

A/N

Ughh, I really suck at naming shit. "Iron Hand" mercenaries? Could I have gotten any more clichéd? And then there's Gro'bak's epithet, which sounds incredibly lame, but I couldn't really think of anything else. I mean, his character is smart merc with impressive tactical skills, but nothing that references any of those character attributes would have been the kind of name to inspire fear. Plus, I sort of half-assed the explanation of how he got the epithet, because I couldn't really think of anything that would be in line with his character but still notorious enough to actually get him a reputation.

The mercenaries are pretty good, but they're still rookies which is why they are searching for skilled and experienced members. That's why they wanted Gro'bak to join so badly.

If anyone's wondering why Cassandra and Joneif fight, well, aside from me trying to develop Joneif further, it's because this chapter was kind of boring. I also wanted to establish just how good Cassandra was without her bow. If you'll recall, Gro'bak-one of the group's strongest front-line fighters-lost to Joneif in a sparring match, and he wasn't even provoked into calling on the wolf. Of course, Cassandra does have the fact that Joneif is a single opponent working in her favor; she might have a bit more difficulty fighting against a group. And there's the fact that she fights much dirtier than Joneif or Gro'bak would, as not using their force wouldn't even occur to the two, they sort of rely on the strength of their punches.

Did you like the mini-story of Gro'bak's? I can do more like them from more characters' perspectives if you do, but as it stands they aren't really that important. I probably will do at least one every time the characters go somewhere, but if people hate them than I will stop, and if people love them I will do them more frequently.

Anyway, this chapter marks my return from the abyss of procrastination! Yes!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, Send Your Child unto Me

The group had set camp an hour ago, in a small clearing under a thick canopy of leaves near the road. It had been a few days since they had left Whiterun, and they were getting close to Ivarstead. Currently, they were eating around the fire, and most were companionable. Cassandra was unpredictable, she'd be prone to wandering away into the surrounding area (although she never went far,) or breaking into song at random times. If Runilus or Vorald were drunk enough, they would even join her. Runilus and Vorald never seemed to stop bickering, and their fighting had only increased in frequency and intensity from weariness of the road. Joneif had had his pride wounded by Cassandra, but as the full moon passed he became slightly more tolerant, keeping mostly to himself although generally staying in the vicinity of the group. Still, he didn't talk or interact much with the others. Gro'bak pursued any leisure that he could find, reading, sparring, he'd even tell stories if he was in a good mood. All in all, the group's spirits were high, but they were all looking forward to the inn that they would be staying at soon.

They had not encountered much of significance during their brief travels. Sure, there were the occasional bandit patrols, wolves, necromancer covens, even a few trolls. None provided any kind of threat to the veteran warriors. They didn't even have the wolves bothering them, they would come near, act intimidating, then be properly deterred when Joneif would assert his dominance over them the only way he knew how. By howling them into submission.

At their camp, they were all engaged in some activity or another, preventing anyone from noticing the shadow-like figure lurking in the brush. Before anyone knew what was happening, the shadow threw a knife that embedded itself in Joneif's shoulder as he was twisting his torso, by chance avoiding the lethal blow. Blood spurted out of the wound, dousing the grass beneath his feet. He immediately shifted into wolf form, howling into the night as the knife popped out of the gash in his arm from the force of the transformation, and the flesh began knitting itself back together nearly immediately. Werewolves did have impressive regeneration factors. The rest of the circle had all scrambled for their nearby arms, preparing themselves for attack.

Joneif began sniffing about for the hidden enemy, before locking in on one particular shadowed bough of a nearby tree and narrowing his eyes. The hidden figure noticed this, and saw that the wolf was about to jump right for him, so he acted first. Leaping from the trees, armed with a Blade of Woe, they all got a good look at the shadow for the first time. Cassandra immediately recognized the Dark Brotherhood leather armor that the Khajit was wearing, as did Gro'bak and Runilus, although Vorald and Joneif did not seem to notice the gravity of the situation.

The assassin landed in the center of the group, utterly fearless. He was a Khajit man with midnight black fur and a pair of emerald green eyes, along with three gold earrings in his left ear. His feline features stared into Cassandra's eyes, and she knew that this man fully expected to die. He had underestimated them, a fatal mistake. Still though, even as he accepted death he refused to give up. She could respect that.

Pulling his dagger into a reverse grip, held in front of his face, he dropped into a low cat stance that would give him great flexibility and agility for his next move, when he chose to make it. As the group closed in around him in a circle, he leaped towards Cassandra, the closest opponent, quickly and without telegraphing his attack. She barely reacted in time—he was so fast—but she managed to lean backwards just enough that instead of slitting her throat he merely nicked the skin of her neck. Tossing her bow to the side, she continued to lean backwards, twisting her torso and planting her hands on the ground. She used all of her weight and momentum to launch a powerful kick that staggered the assassin. He somehow managed to stand through the kick, even though it would knock out most men. Fortunately, while his back was turned, Joneif managed to gouge him from behind with his claws, hitting him with enough force that the Khajit was sent flying into the dirt a few meters away. He quickly stood up to assess the situation before doubling over and coughing up blood. But even with his blood running freely down his back, he managed to return to his guarded stance with some effort, albeit with much more trembling and in a much weaker stance than before. Runilus stepped forward, a lightning bolt prepared in his right hand, which he launched into the Khajit assassin. The man's body was flung backwards to collide with a tree. Even after all this, he still attempted to stand, to push himself to his feet, but his arms simply gave out and he collapsed, losing consciousness.

Vorald moved forward to check if he was dead, but was soon surprised. "He's not dead yet! Still though, only a matter of time really before his body gives out. That was quite the beating he took. Do you guys think we should just finish him off now?"

Cassandra frowned, this man had impressed her, even if he had tried to kill them. Besides, she sort of wanted to know what the Dark Brotherhood wanted from their group. "Wait, don't kill him. Runilus, would you please heal him?"

The elf stared at her in shock, mouth slightly agape. "Are my ears functioning properly? You desire me to heal the assassin who attempted to kill us?"

"Well sure, when you put it like that it does sound crazy. Would you please heal him? Pretty please? For me? Oh, I know! Would you do it if I gave you an IOU? Think about all of the enemies you could screw with by calling on me!"

"You cannot be serious." He responded in a flat tone.

Cassandra took on a thoughtful expression, "What if I gave you something else? Name your price!"

Runilus suddenly got an idea that was absolutely evil and would probably shut her up. "What if you were to lay with me tonight?"

"Ok. But heal him first." She responded without even missing a beat.

Runilus suddenly looked a bit horrified. 'Did she just consent!?' He kept asking himself over and over. "Cassandra, do you understand what I am asking of you?"

"Yeah, you want to fuck. I'm not an idiot." She responded in the same infuriatingly calm tone of voice.

"No, that is not what I want. I asked that because I assumed that you would become angry and that you would forget about the assassin. I did not expect you to agree under any terms, much less unconditionally without reservation." Runilus was slightly panicked now.

"Oh. Well, whatever. Your loss. Please heal him." She still had not changed her expression or tone of voice.

"Why!? Why do you want this cat to be saved so much!?"

"Because he's a badass Runilus! Didn't you see just now how awesome he was! Completely fearless, even when he knew that death was inevitable! Oh, and I wanted to ask some questions about his employers. And he was really cool! And he reminds me a bit of an old friend of mine, wait, I think that was me. Or was it? Hmm. And he was so cool!" The man had impressed her, and she made no attempt to hide it.

"He was of the Dark Brotherhood, no questions are necessary." Runilus replied.

"I know that. Again, not an idiot." Cassandra snapped back.

"Wait, seriously? The Dark Brotherhood? Why are they after us?" Vorald asked.

"A good question. I heard that the Brotherhood is run by a spirit of the Void known as the Night Mother, the wife of Sithis. Is this true, Cassandra?" Gro'bak asked.

"Yeah, far as I know anyway."

"So why would this Night Mother be sending assassins after you or your allies?"

"Good question," she started concentrating, running over possible scenarios, "Well, it's possible she doesn't know I'm here. But I doubt it, my departure wasn't exactly public, but people are bound to notice when a daedric lord takes a sojourn through Nirn. It's most probable she just doesn't care. She's probably thinking that since I can't die, I can't be hurt by assassins she sends after me. And if I were to take offense to assassins after me, I can't exactly contend with Sithis, so she has nothing to worry about. Still though, she wouldn't accept a pointless contract, which means it's probably for one of you and not me. If I can't die she could never complete a contract on my head. Runilus, go heal the Khajit, and see if he's carrying any orders with him while you're at it."

Runilus simply sighed, and walked over to the Khajit. "Let the record show that I think that this is a _very_ bad idea."

"I second the elf. The Dark Brotherhood are not people you want to mess with. We should just get rid of this guy while we have the chance." Vorald spoke up.

"Just tie him up or something. Then we don't have to worry about him killing us or escaping when he wakes up." Gro'bak pointed out.

Runilus began a healing spell, as Vorald collected rope. He was able to stop the bleeding, but he could not heal the tissue damage well enough, and was forced to use a bandage to cover the large gashes that would almost certainly leave nasty scars. It would take the Khajit at least a few hours to awaken.

Runilus found a note in the man's pocket. It was the orders that Cassandra had been looking for, apparently, some unknown party wanted Vorald dead. He had been attracting some of the wrong kind of attention with his voice in Whiterun, but the enemy could be anyone from the Thalmor to the lowliest bandit. It was likely that they would never really know for sure who had called the contract.

The man was tied up tightly and placed on the ground, as the others returned to their camp much more somber than before.

* * *

K'Shar's first thought when he felt the icy cold water surrounding his head was to start swimming straight up. But then, he realized that he was actually on land. And that his hands and feet were bound together, so he accomplished little more than mindless thrashing. Then his second thought occurred, 'How am I still alive?' he asked himself.

He was soon dragged out of the water by a hand gripping the back of his head, and felt a pressure weigh on his back as the one who pulled him out sat on him, pinning him to the ground. "Hi there!" he heard the feminine voice saying. Presumably she was the one who had pulled him out of the river. Looking to the left and right, he saw that they were alone, unless there was a person behind him.

He started coughing, and the woman continued speaking, "So, you should be thanking me. I totally just saved your life. But I do have a few questions that need answering." She spoke in a cheerful tone, as though she had not a care in the world and was genuinely excited to talk to him. But her actions spoke differently. She was running the edge of a dagger over the sensitive skin where the werewolf had sliced his back into ribbons, not enough to break the skin, but enough to where he could feel the cool of the blade.

Keeping his cool, K'Shar replied. "Well then, perhaps you should let me sit up so we can speak face to face."

The woman was silent for a moment, before she stood. Grabbing the assassin by the shoulder, she yanked him up and placed him back down in a sitting position. Feeling the support of the boulder she had leaned him up against, he had to suppress a sharp intake of breath. The rough surface had aggravated the wounds and he was bleeding slightly, although it wasn't too bad, he had to admit. He then realized that he had been stripped of his armor, the gear was in a pile nearby. The only clothing that he wore beneath his armor was a pair of pants. Basically, he had no protection, not even a thin layer covering his upper body.

Looking up, he saw the woman standing there. She was in a blue evening gown with a dagger sheath strapped to the waist, although the blade itself was currently in her hands. Her hair, black as night, was falling into her face and shrouding it. The braid she usually held it in was undone. Her eyes were the only part of her visage that were visible, the dark green of the irises seeming to glow with unusual golden streaks running through the eyeball and a shining white light piercing into him from her pupils. Even barely armed and unarmored, she managed to become an imposing figure that almost terrified him. Almost.

He tried to move his hands, but found that they would not budge. "I don't suppose that you would mind loosening these ropes for me?" The Khajit asked her. He knew she would refuse, but it was worth a shot.

She smirked at him, then bent down and wordlessly cut the ropes off with her dagger. The assassin began rubbing his wrists, and staring at her in shock. "Thank y—wait a minute. I recognize you! You're the woman who gave me that nasty kick back at that fight against the Dragonborn! Sithis, I think you broke a rib or two. Why are you helping me?"

"I told you, I have some questions. Besides, it's not like you could kill me anyway." She sat down directly across from him.

"Don't get so cocky. That's how you get dead." He said, although he wasn't trying to intimidate her. Merely give her some friendly advice.

The answering smirk she gave him confused him, and strangely unnerved him as well. "So, question time! First up, who do you work for?" She asked.

"The Dark Brotherhood, obviously. You must have known that already, so why am I still alive?" He replied, with genuine curiosity.

The woman's smirking expression did not change, so he did not notice the backhand flying towards his face until it was too late. He fell on his side, and she spoke with the same damn smirk, "I ask the questions here. Do you understand?" K'Shar nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Good. Of course I know that you were sent by the Dark Brotherhood. The thing is, the Brotherhood is little more than a weapon, and I was hoping that you could point me to the hand that wields it."

"I don't know," he said with a shrug, "The Listener arranges all of the contracts. Never even seen the paranoid bastard in person, much less a contact of his. I am just a humble Silencer."

"Well that's annoying. We don't have time to hunt through the Brotherhood just to find the source of the contract. Next question, what I'd really like to know is why the Night Mother would send anyone after me. Did you piss her off or something?"

"The contract wasn't for you. It was for the Nord named Vorald, calling himself the Dragonborn." K'Shar explained, but she simply waved him off. K'Shar did not really understand, she must have been quite the egotistical narcissist if she genuinely believed she was above the Dark Brotherhood, that an attack against her was suicide for the assailant. Although, given his current circumstances, he supposed it might have been fair for her.

"I figured as much. So if you were trying to kill a Nord, why attack a Redguard first?"

"Heh, that werewolf was a nasty shock. Anyway, would you believe that I was trying to die?"

"Not really. Much easier ways to kill yourself than allowing yourself to be caught."

"True enough. What I really wanted, I guess, was to escape from the Brotherhood. But the only way to escape the Brotherhood once they get their claws on you is death. I didn't want to die mewling like a kitten, so I resolved to roar like a lion instead. I started volunteering for all of the most difficult jobs, always giving my best effort so I can die in peace when I'm overwhelmed. I thought that day had already come when I lost to your group. Probably I will still die by the time that the night is over, who knows really?"

She looked confused, "Why would you want to leave the Brotherhood?"

"I never asked for the life. And every soul that I reap for them just feels like a pointless waste of my time."

She stood, then walked over to the sitting assassin and straddled him, K'Shar was confused by the action. "Umm, what are you doing? I appreciate it and all, but—" he shut up when he saw the dagger she was holding between their faces.

"What's your name, assassin?"

K'Shar started laughing, "Well, I can see that you're quite the sadist aren't you? You like each kill to be incredibly personal, right? I know far too many people like that. Well, I suppose that I can give you a name. My name is K'Shar."

"K'Shar. I'm going to show you something interesting." She held the knife and drew it upwards. K'Shar closed his eyes, waiting for death to take him in its cold embrace.

Instead, he heard a loud thud and felt a hot liquid spurting into his face. Opening his eyes, and ignoring the sting of the blood in them, he saw that the woman had dropped the dagger. She was pressed up against him, when he pulled her head back he saw that she had slit her own throat and was bleeding all over him. But the truly shocking thing was that she was still smirking.

'What…the…fuck.' was the only thought running through K'Shar's head. Pushing the woman off of him, he had no idea what to think. She had killed herself, but why? What possible reason could there be? As she was face-first on the ground beside him, he did not notice the purple light surrounding her corpse, or the mending flesh at her neck.

Using his claws, he slit the ropes binding his feet, and then stood. Trying to shake off how confused and perturbed he was, he began walking away, to recover his equipment. Before he had gone more than three yards, he heard something that stopped him dead in his tracks. A maniacal laughter echoed through the clearing. Perhaps it was a normal laugh, but to his ears it sounded maniacal as he was well aware that he was the only person in the area. He then heard a voice he had not expected to hear, "Now, just where do you think you're going K'Shar?" It was the woman's voice! A cold feeling of dread gripped his chest as he started sweating. It was impossible, but he couldn't deny what he had heard. Turning around, he saw the woman standing and staring right at him with her pupils a searing white color, her irises entirely gold, her hair and clothing blowing back and forth wildly even though K'Shar himself felt no wind. Her blood stained the ground, some of it even on her body and clothing, but there was no gash in her throat. Not even a thin scar. There was no mark at all.

K'Shar had seen plenty of gruesome, sickening sights in his career as an assassin. He had even caused many. He had also been in plenty of dangerous situations, seen many things that were downright terrifying. But he had never lost his calm, at least not since he was an initiate. This woman though, no, this monster, caused him to collapse and begin scrambling backward on his ass, cowering in utter terror. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been this scared. She carried no weapon, but he doubted that she needed one.

Every time he tried to put distance between them, she would close it, maintaining the exact same amount of space between them. Eventually, K'Shar felt something press up against his back. Quickly turning around, he realized that he had been cornered against the trunk of a tree. Whipping his head back to face her, he saw that she had not closed the distance between them, she was just standing there, exactly as far as she had been before.

"What are you?" He asked, making no attempt to hide the terror in his voice.

"You'll have to be more specific. I am many things to many people."

Gradually, the otherworldly qualities diminished, until except for the blood on her body she looked like a perfectly normal Imperial girl. Walking forward and kneeling directly in front of him, she spoke, even as he recoiled, "To you, I can be a savior. Or an executioner. It's your choice which path you take." She held her hand forward, as if to help him up, and he recoiled further.

He looked up at her in shock, "A savior? What are you talking about?!"

"You want out of the Dark Brotherhood, yes? I can provide you with safety from them. Or as much safety as can be possibly granted. In return, all you have to do is follow me and not stab any of my allies in the back." suddenly, her hand darted forward to clasp around his throat and begin choking him, "But know this. If you even think of betraying us, I will know. And I will show you no mercy." With that, she released the man from her hold. He began gasping for air, and coughing from the force of her death grip. "Do you understand?" He was still coughing, but he slowly got himself under control again.

"I understand perfectly. I…I think that I will accept your offer. But please, tell me first. Just what are you? What you did back there was inhuman." He was still staring at her with suspicion and fear, although at least he wasn't running away.

"The one and only Prince of Madness, Sheogorath, at your service!" she responded in an elaborate tone, even giving an exaggerated bow, "But you may also know me as the Hero of Kvatch, and you can call me Cassandra. And before you ask, it's a long story, we'll fill you in later."

He stared at her, mouth agape. His mental processing had just shut down, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. She suddenly snapped her fingers, causing him to jump backwards, "Remind me to send a strongly worded letter to the Night Mother for sending an assassin to fight me."

A/N

Is it bad that I can recite the Black Sacrament from memory, in order to put that as the title of the chapter? Ah well. Anyway, K'Shar is now in the group, and he is the last male character I'm introducing to this story. Although there are still a few more people. At least two of them have really epic entrances. Unfortunately, they don't come until after the introduction of the Blades to the story.

I'd initially planned to tag this meeting to the end of the last chapter, but then I decided against it on the grounds that the last chapter was a bit long, and its ending seemed pretty final. And then this chapter got incredibly long as I kept getting ideas while I was writing it. The initial plan was for K'Shar to charge into the clearing stupidly and have Runilus effortlessly paralyze him with a lightning bolt. But as I was about to write that I decided that I wanted his entrance to be much more badass.

K'Shar was using the cliché of "going out with a bang rather than a whimper," but since he's Khajit I altered it slightly to be "roaring like a lion rather than mewling like a kitten."

The interaction between Runilus and Cassandra was a mere by-product of my twisted imagination. There's no romance. Between those two anyway. I feel like this is worth mentioning, otherwise people will probably assume that that is where I am going. So why did I include that scene then? Well aside from thinking it might be funny, it did show some parts of those two's characters.

I'm posting this early because I'm not going to have Internet this week-end. I also wanted to say that I am changing my policy of updates to once a week if I have content. So if I'm busy or don't have complete chapters, I won't update. Otherwise, I'll keep trying to do it each Saturday.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Ivarstead

Cassandra walked back to the group, the assassin in tow. Everyone immediately tensed up at the sight, and were prepared for the man to do something stupid. "Hey guys! Guess what! The assassin's going to be joining us now! His name is K'Shar."

Runilus, Vorald, and Gro'bak all leapt to their feet with indignation, Joneif alone remaining seated. "WHAT! You recruited the assassin who was sent to eliminate us!" Runilus screamed out, "What if he tries to complete his contract!"

"Oh. Then I will know and I will feed him his own intestines before leaving him to bleed to death hours later." K'Shar, still shaken from his one-on-one with the woman, visibly cringed.

"All it would take is a moment of inattention on your part for him to kill us!" Vorald pointed out.

K'Shar, leaning backwards onto his rear leg and crossing his arms, spoke up, "Do you really think I'm more scared of the Brotherhood than a Daedric Lord? I'm not about to provoke anything."

Gro'bak glanced at Cassandra, before asking, "You really think we can trust him?" she nodded her head in reply, and the merc visibly relaxed, "Then I will trust your judgment and your ability to follow through with that threat. Besides, a personal assassin might be useful." Cassandra beamed at his understanding.

Joneif, sitting by the camp, snorted, "So we're keeping the cat? An assassin? Just how many cowards are we going to bring with us?"

"Better a cat with intelligence than a mad dog." K'Shar retorted. Joneif just growled in response, before he stopped paying attention to the scene and just ignored them.

"You cannot be serious you two! This is a colossally stupid idea! I believe that this bears repeating, as it cannot be stressed enough, but this damn cat tried to kill us!" Runilus was downright pissed at this point.

"I agree," Vorald spoke, but in a somewhat doubtful tone, "But he does have a point about who he's more scared of. I think we should be more concerned with him fleeing and spreading word of what he's seen than trying to kill us again."

"Well, good news then! It would be stupid of me to run, because then both you guys and the Brotherhood would want my blood. This way, I'm a bit protected."

"Alright, I don't like it, but I guess we could use him." Vorald spoke with trepidation and a bit of sighing as well at doing something he still believed to be foolish. Runilus, however, had not overcome his initial convictions yet. Groaning in exasperation, he stomped into the woods wordlessly.

"Ermm, should somebody go get him?" K'Shar asked.

"Nah, its fine. Just let him blow off some steam." Cassandra replied, "He'll be back eventually."

They all sat around, nobody in a mind to sleep, but having nothing better to do, and an awkward silence soon descended upon the group. It was going to be a really long night.

* * *

The first rays of sunlight began peeking through the canopy of leaves above the group. The light passed through the leaves, shrouding the campsite in a green light. Inhaling the fresh air deeply, Cassandra sighed contentedly, leaning backwards against the trunk of the tree she had climbed into that allowed her a clear view of the campsite. Pulling her bow up to eye level, she aimed for the area next to Runilus's sleeping form. Releasing the blunt tipped arrow, the shaft embedded itself in the dirt right next to his head. This startled him awake, and he started screaming about being under attack, waking the others up as well. Watching them all jump to attention and begin searching for nonexistent assailants, she began laughing so hard she couldn't even sit still. This turned out to be a mistake, she had forgotten she was a dozen feet up and fell out of the tree, splitting her head open and snapping her neck on a rock in the fall. When she was finished resurrecting, she saw that everyone was glaring daggers at her, and this sent her into new explosions of laughter.

"Really?" Voarald asked in a voice where he was trying, and failing, to contain his annoyance and anger.

When she finally finished laughing, she stood and walked to the arrow giggling slightly. "Yup!" she replied in a voice that was far too cheerful. Yanking the arrow out, she showed them all the blunt edge, "You guys would've been fine. The arrow didn't even have a pointy end, and it's not like I would've missed anyway. Besides, you should have seen your faces!" The memory sent her into new fits of laughter that threatened to send her to the ground once again.

Gro'bak sighed, and tried to move things back to business, "It's already morning, and we can make it to Ivarstead around noon today if we leave now. We should get going."

Cassandra made a heavy sigh, "Yes, I can't wait. A real bath would be so nice."

"I'm just looking forward to a warm bed." Vorald added.

"Stop acting so weak, living outside is not so hard." Joneif looked slightly confused. Both those two had his respect, at least to an extent, so why were they complaining about something as simple and easy as sleeping outside?

K'Shar walked up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder causing Joneif to immediately tense up, "Well my friend, not all of us can be quite as…rugged, as you."

"Don't touch me cat." He growled back in reply.

Cassandra suddenly snapped her fingers, drawing everyone's attention to her, "I just realized something," she then pointed at K'Shar, "We need to get you clothes to wear in cities so that you don't get recognized as Brotherhood."

"No need, I carry a spare set of clothing for just this kind of occasion. I will need some time to change though." He responded.

"Alright. Go ahead." She said, although making no move to give him privacy. The others, hearing this, had all set off on the road already.

"Umm, don't you want to catch up to the others?"

"No, it's better for me to stay here to keep an eye on you, so to speak. The others wouldn't want you alone but they wouldn't want to be here either."

"Well then, I guess all I can say is that I hope you enjoy the show." He said shrugging, before retrieving his roughspun shirt and torn trousers, and then starting to strip. "Try not to throw yourself upon my naked body; that would slow us down considerably no matter how much fun it might be for the both of us."

"Now didn't your mother ever teach you to not solicit sex from the insane girls? You never know when I might decide to remove something just because I can." She replied with a wicked grin on her face.

He whipped around to face her, before barely suppressing a shudder. "You are a cruel and terrifying mistress, you know that? I can't even tell if you're joking and I _definitely_ don't want to find out."

"I can hardly help it if I am. Unpredictability is my domain, and madness often intimidates people who don't understand it. Not that anyone can actually _understand_ madness. That paradox alone could drive people insane. Anyway, I think we should—hold on a minute. K'Shar, we need to take a detour."

"Why?"

She looked at him before pouting, "I saw something that was tall and wanted to climb it."

"What?" He responded, a bit dumbfounded.

"I saw something that was tall and wanted to climb it."

"What was this thing?"

She seemed to consider his question, before setting off down the path the others had gone down, "I don't remember anymore, so I guess it wasn't that important. Let's go!" She finished cheerfully, causing him to sigh.

* * *

It didn't take the two long to catch up to the others, and they arrived at Ivarstead not much longer after that. It was a small village, incredibly small. They only saw maybe a dozen people and a few farms. It seemed the only noteworthy buildings in the place were the mill and the inn. Needing a place to sleep for the night, they moved towards the inn.

Runilus walked up to the innkeeper while the others waited outside, "How much do the chambers cost in this establishment?" He asked the man cleaning mugs behind the counter.

"30 septims a night per room." He replied.

"And just how many rooms do you have available?"

"It's not like we get many travelers here. Just people who want to go to the Throat of the World like that woman who comes through here every so often. Or people who are passing through to Riften from the Southwest. We should have about five empty rooms."

"I'll need three rooms then." He didn't want to do anything risky around Cassandra, he had absolutely no idea how she would react if he forced her to sleep in the same room as anyone else. Naturally, he needed his own room all to himself. The rest could just figure themselves out. Passing the coin to the innkeeper, he went outside to tell them what had happened in the inn.

"You got a room for yourself and Cassandra, but left four of us on our own? And with the assassin?" Vorald asked a bit angrily, but mostly annoyed.

"Thanks Runilus! That private room will be really helpful when I get around to taking that bath I wanted. It would be difficult to do it properly with four other people in the room with me." Cassandra added.

"W-We wouldn't necessarily be in the room at the same time as you ,you know." Vorald spluttered.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, fearless leader?" K'Shar asked with a hint of sarcasm, thankfully changing the topic of discussion to a slightly less embarrassing topic. Still, Vorald wasn't in much of a mood to talk about this either.

He just sighed, before attempting to turn the conversation to a productive course, "We should really find out as much as we can about the Greybeards." The rest agreed, and they then decided to split up and ask around.

There was a pretty clear consensus about the monks.

"Graybeards? Those strange monks never come down here."

"Why would you want to talk to the Greybeards? It's not like they do anything for us."

"I heard no one gets into High Hrothgar. Travelers are turned away."

"If you want to talk to the Greybeards you'll have to climb to the top of the Throat of the World. It's awfully dangerous up there so be sure to be careful."

"Of course you're here for the Greybeards, no other travelers come to Ivarstead than pilgrims."

"Strange days, when those Greybeards Shout a summons for the Dragonborn. Who even knows what makes a Dragonborn? Maybe _I'm_ Dragonborn and I just don't know it yet." Vorald gaped at the guardsmen before shaking his head and walking away. Nope, he wasn't even going to try to respond to that one. His dragon soul huffed in contempt, _Fool wouldn't know a dovah even if it were rending him to shreds._

They met back in the main hall of the inn to regroup. They were sitting in a corner during the afternoon, so they were unlikely to miss any eavesdroppers or speak so loudly they could be overheard. "So, did anyone learn anything we didn't already know?" Vorald spoke first.

"Nope." The rest of the group responded in unison.

"I could try asking the voices in my head if they know anything." Cassandra added.

"Voices in your head probably aren't the best source of new information, Goddess." K'Shar responded.

"Where, I hesitate to ask, did that come from?" Runilus asked the assassin.

"Just trying out nicknames Whiny. Not sure if 'Goddess' works right, might change it later if I can think of something better."

"I am not whiny!" Runilus cried out.

"Whatever you say," K'Shar responded casually, before adding on as an afterthought, "Whiny." Runilus's left brow twitched in irritation before he sighed in exasperation.

"So Cassandra, when you were saying that you could talk with the voices in your head I assume that you mean Talos?" Vorald asked.

K'Shar's eyes widened in shock, "You mean Talos the ninth divine?" At their blank stares, he started to laugh, "Well shit Goddess. You've got direct contact with that particular being? Will you ever stop surprising me?"

She gave him a devilish smirk before responding with, "Now if I told you that it would ruin the surprise wouldn't it. And that would be boring. And to answer your question Vorald, I think I meant Talos originally. Now though, all I can think about is the horse that walks through my throne room at 11:54 every morning. He's a pretty strange guy, but really good at poker and—Oh. Where was I again?" she broke her line of thought at their blank stares, "Right, Talos. I could try to call him up, yeah. Gimme a minute."

_Hello! Hellloooo! Is anyone home! HELLOOOO!_

_Gods Cassandra! No need to shout so damn loud!_

_Talos, hey, how've you been?_

_Well I—_

_That's nice, but I should really get to why I called. It's pretty important. See, its cause I've got a question that you could answer._

_I figured as much when I realized you were going to Ivarstead._

_Nice that saves me a ton of explanation time! So, Throat of the World, Greybeards, in that order._

_The Throat of the World shouldn't be too difficult for you from what I remember. Some wolves, maybe a few ice wraiths and frost trolls. It should take you about a day to reach High Hrothgar. Greybeards are pacifistic masters of the Voice, they believe they should use its power to worship the Gods with and that it should never be used in combat. It sounds like the Dragonborn already has all of the raw knowledge, he just needs to control his power better and watch out for that dragon soul. The Greybeards can help, but there's no telling how long they may need so you'll want to avoid getting complacent. It wouldn't do anyone any good to sit around learning if the world gets destroyed._

_Sounds like they're gonna be pains in the ass. I'll do what I can though._

_That is one other issue. The Greybeards will know who you are, I'm almost certain of it, and there's no telling how they might react._

_Well, shit. What can we do about it?_

She could hear his sigh even in her mind, before he continued, _I don't think that there's anything that you can do. If the Greybeards become hostile, I might be able to create a sign that will defuse their temper, but I really have no idea what's going to happen._

_Wouldn't you get in trouble for "interfering in mortal affairs"?_

_Probably, that's why it will have to be a last resort._

_Alright, thanks for the info, be seeing you around then I guess._

Speaking out loud for the rest of the group, Cassandra told them what she had learned. "Alright, Talos says Greybeards can help Vorald control his voice but that they'll probably be dicks about it. He also says that the path to the Throat of the World should only take us about a day and shouldn't be anything too scary."

"Alright, we'll have to set off in the morning if we don't want to travel at dark then." Vorald said.

The rest agreed, and they all found ways to entertain themselves before the time to sleep came. Vorald and Gro'bak went to investigate a "haunted" barrow and came back by nightfall loaded with loot. Cassandra had gone exploring and brought back all kinds of game, though mostly rabbits, by the time the day was out. Joneif had also wandered off, but they weren't too worried about him, as he'd be back by morning. Runilus and K'Shar both seemed content to stay at the inn, but K'Shar tried to avoid the other when possible as he would consistently glare daggers at him every time they were in the same room. There were definitely unresolved issues between those two, but hopefully it wouldn't impede them in their task of climbing the highest peak in Skyrim.

A/N

Sorry this is late; AP classes are a bitch. And life doesn't help, I was gone like all last weekend, otherwise this would have been up sooner. I also have absolutely no idea when the next update will be coming, because Dragon Age Inquisition comes out next week and I already have so little free time not absorbed by either homework or procrastination from said homework.

I'm well aware that rooms in Skyrim cost 10 septims, but it's more realistic that an out of the way place might charge a bit more, while bustling city centers would cost less to stay in. The whole "supply and demand" basics of economics. Also, Runilus got 10,000 septims from the Jarl of Whiterun if you'll recall. That should be enough to cover any room and board costs the group might have for a while, as long as there aren't any big purchases like houses or a half dozen spell books or high quality weapons.

Addressing a review that was left last chapter, as it seemed like a question many might have, the guild quest lines have all happened off screen. I don't really want them to be a part of this story though, so meeting the people who handled those problems is unlikely. The Listener has killed the Emperor and rebuilt the Dark Brotherhood across Skyrim and is starting to expand into other regions, establishing himself and the other in-game Brotherhood members as the new Black Hand. K'Shar is a recruit who came along after the Brotherhood was nearly destroyed, I don't think I've worked out how long he was with them but it was during the reconstruction he got recruited, as the Listener had already receded from all prying eyes, including those in the Brotherhood he doesn't trust. And he doesn't trust anyone in the Brotherhood but the Black Hand.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Throat of the World

The assembled group gazed upwards to the highest mountain in Skyrim, its peaks veiled by thin clouds. It was early morning, the sun had already risen but was not yet providing bright light.

"Well, I guess we have to climb now." Vorald said. Nobody moved.

"Yep. Gotta take care of that." Cassandra replied, and then hunched her shoulders and leaned forward. "Gods this is gonna suck. Mountains are the worst. And the higher you go the colder it gets."

Seeing nothing else for it, Vorald started trudging forward and after a moment's hesitation the others began to follow. They were largely silent at this time, focused upon climbing, although K'Shar tried to engage various members of the group in conversation. However, due to a general distrust the only one who reciprocated was Cassandra, and everyone else actively tried to not listen for the sake of their own sanity. K'Shar was just a bit too engaging a platform for her insanity to drive up. From just a few glimpses of their conversations Vorald could hear about anything ranging from parallel worlds where things were only slightly different, yet unrecognizable as a result of those differences, to watching bloodthirsty animals fighting a battle royale in order to find out which one could get out of the tree they were all stuck in first. Not the kind of thing that one wanted to lend much credit towards. Meanwhile, as they continued, they saw a few wolves acting threatening on the edges of their vision, but Joneif would merely growl and they would all flee as quickly as possible.

They made good time for the most part, until they hit the first snows. The terrain became far rougher and they moved much slower. Just trudging through the snow was exhausting enough, but occasionally they would have to mount fallen trees or maneuver through rocky areas without always having good footing. And that was not counting the various attacks by the ice wraiths. The most perilous moment had come when there was a large gust of wind that caused the snow to blow around them, and the wraiths shot from the blizzard without warning. They would have to avoid them as much as possible and hope that Runilus could hit them with a powerful firebolt if possible, as they were too fast and too resilient for many of the warriors to eliminate them with ease.

The first time that they passed an overhang, a frost troll came barreling out and smacked Vorald aside, effectively removing him from the fight. Runilus began to pour flames into the troll in order to cancel its regenerative ability, while K'Shar skirmished to the creature's backside and tried to stab it in its vitals. Cassandra rushed to Vorald's side to help him stand once again and assess his injuries, while Gro'bak placed himself in such a position that the troll wouldn't be able to reach him. While they all fought admirably, the fight only ended when Joneif had completed his transformation and impaled the troll upon his jagged claws, before ripping them from the creature's chest and slashing deeply across its neck with his other hand.

K'Shar whistled appreciatively as Joneif reverted to human form. "Glad you're on our side Dog. That was _brutal_."

"Shut up cat." He grunted.

"Civil as ever I see."

"I don't like you. You are a coward, attacking enemies from behind and hiding from fights. I don't need to be civil."

K'Shar merely laughed in reply.

As they continued walking, they were very wary of any overhangs or caves where another frost troll might have been hiding.

As the sun crawled across the sky, coming to rest upon its lofty nest at the height of its arc, the group arrived at a wide open clearing. On both their right and their left, jagged cliffs rose and fell, climbing into the clouds and descending into the abyss. In between was a white blanket of space about ten meters in breadth that continued onwards in its slow climb to the Throat of the World.

"It's about noon guys. I think this is as good a place as we're gonna find to stop and rest a bit. Maybe get some food as well?" Vorald advised.

"Yes, yes, I am absolutely famished. The better question to ask would be in determining who must do the cooking."

"Well let's put it this way elf, who here can shoot fire out of their hands?" Nobody rose their hands. "Right, right, and we know that _you_ can. I think you just got volunteered." Vorald concluded smugly.

"Swine." Runilus replied before resigning himself to his self-wrought fate, pulling the rations that they had brought with them out of various packs. "Why are the lot of you so incapable of preventing damage to your equipment? So many of these materials have been grievously injured by our fighting on our journey here."

"Ah, cheer up Runilus. A couple of dents wouldn't be the end of the world. A trillion though, a trillion might do it," Cassandra said as she got a glazed, contemplative look in her eye, "Well, anyway, when's food gonna be ready?"

"Hey, Cassandra, I saw the ghost of Pelagius Septim III over there. You should investigate."

"WHAT!" She cried in outrage. "How dare he skulk around without even saying hello! Pelly! Pelly! Where are you!?" She continued to scream in rage as she searched for the apparition. Most of the group just sat in silence, waiting for the food to be ready.

Vorald gave Runilus a withering look. "What, be there dragons behind me?" Runilus asked.

"Stop. Antagonizing her."

"Do not presume to instruct me by which means I must act."

"Whatever. I don't even care how you choose to die, just don't get the rest of us caught in the crossfire."

"Very well. The food is…" Runilus was cut off by a roar that was distinctly draconic. "No. No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! I just spent an entire fifteen minutes cooking this food and here comes a dragon to ruin my efforts. If the meal is not entirely destroyed by the fight it would be a miracle and…"

"Whiny! Shut up!" K'Shar shouted out as he drew a couple of throwing knives and tensed for combat. Joneif stood nearby, already transforming and Vorald and Gro'bak were already running to the fringes of the arena like clearing in preparation. Runilus huddled against the wall, where he would be in the best vantage to unleash his magic. Cassandra had still not returned from her earlier distraction.

Suddenly, the dragon soared upwards from the cliff edge and banked around the mountain for one revolution. Upon returning, it began to prepare for a shout that there would be no escaping from as it hovered in midair. Suddenly, a whistle sounded and they could see something tearing into the dragon's throat. Gallons of blood began to spurt out, although to a dragon that wasn't as grand a problem as it would've been to anybody else. Looking up the path, they saw that Cassandra had made it in time for the fight, and she had landed the first blow.

Runilus began to target the wings with his lightning magic, hoping to paralyze it into falling out of the sky. But the dragon had learned its lesson. It began to fall, before landing some distance below to regenerate. They could hear the crack of the Thu'um, and the whisper of the words "LAS-SOS." It appeared Cassandra's wound had been more superficial than they thought, as it failed to cripple the dragon's Voice.

The dragon again took off, charging directly upwards and soaring above them. Turning in the sky above, its wing briefly eclipsed the sun before it dove straight towards their approximate location, charging a particular Shout. "**YOL-TOOR-SHUL!**" the dragon Shouted, performing a strafing run over their approximate location. There was no time to react, and nothing that could be done but try to survive the pain. Nevertheless, they all cringed at the moment before they became toasted, frozen in anticipation of the searing and ceaseless burns. And then the heat passed. And they all felt fine. Opening their eyes confirmed the phenomena, a quick and none too thorough examination demonstrated a distinct lack of burns. Looking up, they could see a fading shimmer, as though the heavens themselves had shielded them. But a quick glance at Cassandra revealed that she was as confounded as the rest, it had not been her doing. And that was when they saw her, kneeled within the frost yet panting and sweating of exertion despite the deep chill typical of high altitude in Northern climes.

Cloaked in black robes, her sylvan hair shrouded her gaunt features, and cloaked her intelligent eyes with a depth to rival the ocean. She was short, only about five feet and seven inches tall, and Breton-blooded, but even so it was clear that one ought not underestimate her. "I…I feel drained. Entwined…an alteration armor spell…within that magic cancelling ward. It was…lots of effort. Bought time, but can't…help more. Good luck, and please, don't let me get…" at this point she collapsed forwards and passed out in the snow. Almost in response, the dragon coasted by as if to investigate the damage it had dealt. It was shocked and outraged to see that it had had no effect, and it decided to express its rage by landing upon the clearing. Gro'bak and Vorald were forced to dive to the side to dodge the falling behemoth, but luckily Joneif and KShar were on hand to pick up the slack. Crawling up onto the dragon's back, both sought out the dragons weak points like experienced hunters, and attempted to wreak havoc with their claws. K'Shar's daggers ripped into the beast's flank while Joneif ripped its wings asunder. Giving off a cry, the dragon began to hop up and down to shake the pesky mortals off its back, but regardless it had been completely grounded for the fight.

Suddenly getting a sense of inspiration, the dragon charged for the cliff wall, causing Runilus to speed like the wind from his relative shelter, and rammed its side upon the stone, hoping to dislodge the insects that were crawling upon it. It was effective. Joneif and K'Shar were uninjured, but they were knocked aside. Finally, Vorald decided that he had had enough, and charged forward with a roaring battle cry, axe raised to the heavens. "FUS-RO-DAH!" he Shouted in the direction of the dragon, causing it to be smashed upon the cliff face like the proverbial hammer and anvil. Before the dragon had a chance to recover from the dazedness, Gro'bak speared its foot into the ground with his sword, avoiding the bones to penetrate through the foot with his jagged blade of oricalcum. Vorald hefted his axe high above, before it came falling like the swing of a pendulum and smashed the skull of the screaming and writhing creature. Finally, it began to disintegrate and to be absorbed by Vorald himself, who inhaled deeply and breathed steadily to try to overcome the rush of power that he felt. Luckily, he was well-prepared enough that it had not knocked him out, but he still felt as though he needed to absorb the power before pressing onwards. As a result, and in light of the mystery woman comatose for an indeterminate time on their behalf, the group decided to rest at the clearing for a few hours at least.

The light was beginning to fade into the late afternoon when the woman began to stir within the tent that the group had placed her in. She began to toss and to turn and to stretch, before realizing that she did not know where she was. Sitting up quickly, heart pounding in her chest, she began to check over her clothing and her body for any signs of damage potentially incurred during the fight. She also saw that her knapsack had been placed beside her within the tent she now found herself in. She finally decided it would be best to speak with them herself and exited the tent into the golden light.

Stepping onto the clearing, she could observe in detail for the first time the eclectic band she had stumbled across upon her descent from High Hrothgar. Off on the fringes of the makeshift campsite she saw a stoic and lonesome redguard, who appeared to be largely unarmed and unarmored, a fur coat being his only means of protection. This in and of itself wouldn't have been too noteworthy save for the heavily armored nature of his allies. A tall Nord covered with ebony plate and an inscrutable blank expression. An orc clad in heavy armor and heavier scarring. Each of them was carrying a dangerous cooking blade near them. There was a dangerous looking Khajit as well, who seemed to be evaluating the many different ways he could kill you with the available weapons and environment. There also seemed to be a mage, Altmer, among them. He seemed quite intelligent. It seemed that she had been noticed during her quick survey, and Ebony Plate was walking towards her now.

"We wanted to thank you for your help back there, so we decided to wait for you to recover. Vorald." He extended his arm to her, and she clasped it hesitatingly.

"My name is Esmerelle. And I didn't really do much, there's no need to thank me. I presume that the dragon's dead?"

He nodded, "It has been for some time. And don't sell yourself short. Not all would have the courage to jump into a battle with a gods-damned dragon. I don't know if we would have survived if it hadn't been for your effort, and even if we had we would be much more injured than we are now."

She could feel the color rise to her cheeks, and reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Well, um, thank you." It was then when she looked up that she noticed a woman in daedric armor scaling up the cliffside. "Gods! Do you see that woman! Someone needs to tell her to get down before she kills herself!"

Vorald followed her gaze, before turning to face her once again. "Oh, that's Cassandra. She's an…ally…of sorts of ours. She knows what she's doing, she'll be fine."

As if by an act of providence the moment he said that she slipped, lost her grip, and fell to the ground, smashing her head upon a rock no more than two meters away from them. Esmerelle gasped at the gruesome sight, and then saw the unconcerned way in which the others viewed the event, and became outraged. That outrage soon became focused upon Vorald. "Didn't you say that she was an ally! Why are you so nonchalant about her death then!"

In reply, Vorald nestled the bridge of his nose into the crook of his thumb and forefinger, and gave an exasperated, long-drawn sigh. "Listen, I think you'd better take a seat. In fact, Elf, make her take a seat before it happens."

Runilus did grumble about being ordered around, but not quite as much as one might think as he did agree to help her, and he grabbed ahold of her shoulders. Esmerelle initially protested, first with words and then with thrashing, but all efforts to escape his grasp ceased when she witnessed a purple light envelop the corpse of the one named Cassandra. She recognized it as the light of Oblivion, but did not understand why it would envelop a human corpse. But when the light subsided she could see that all the wounds had healed and the corpse was stirring, then standing, then speaking. And her eyes continued to widen in horror.

"Sooooo, Vorald, what's new." the living corpse asked. At that point, Esmerelle was very grateful for the Altmer's hold, as she found she could no longer support herself on her own two legs, and black began to tinge the edges of her vision.

"Well, our guest was awake. Until you went and died on her."

The world as she knew it ended as the last of the light faded and unconsciousness absorbed her.

**A/N**

This here is a double update both to commemorate my return from hiatus and the anniversary of when I first posted this story. The rest of the A/N is at the end of Chapter 18.


	18. Chapter 18

**Just a reminder that this is actually a double update, so if you skipped to the most recent chapter you should read chapter seventeen first.**

Chapter 18: High Hrothgar

The rays of the sun bathed the campsite with the light of early morning. Esmerelle had remained passed out until it was into the night already. When she first awoke she was hysterical, but to her credit had calmed down quickly. They were kept up for several hours by her many, many questions. Even with a miniscule fraction of her questions answered satisfactorily, she was caught up with the relevant background information of the other members of the group and with the events of their journey.

The group had begun to pack up the temporary campsite they had set when Esmerelle walked up to Vorald. "Hey, are you the leader of this group?" She asked.

"I suppose." He answered slowly and hesitatingly. "Why?"

"Well, um, I was wondering if I could maybe join or something?" She asked very interested in the snow at her feet. Vorald must have been very shocked by her statement, because her cheeks became red and she immediately tried to make her case. "I'm not very great with people, but I'm a competent healer. And I can support you guys in combat in other ways. So please, consider…"

Vorald cut her off with his raucous laughter, "Don't worry so much. I'm just surprised that you'd want to join us. After everything yesterday."

"Oh. Well, that. Uhm, I was surprised, but you guys don't seem too bad. And you're trying to prevent the destruction of the world. I feel like I should try to help as much as I can with such a noble goal." Vorald raised an inquisitive brow at her. She sighed, before answering his unasked question, "Fine. This is important. Dragons are returning in order to destroy the world, and they're led by no less than the son of Akatosh. That alone is worth chronicling, but in addition a friendly _daedra_ is arrayed against him! The wealth of knowledge regarding Oblivion and Aetherius is boundless! I want to protect the world, but I also want to know the means by which it is protected."

In response, Vorald called the attention of the group members. "Do any of you object to Esmerelle joining up with our group?" None spoke against the motion. "There you go. You can follow us for as long as you wish."

They continued to climb, and before long they reached a grey fortress, standing stark upon the edge of the world like a bulwark, a bastion against the threat of the world. This was High Hrothgar. Wordlessly, Vorald ascended the steps and unsealed the haven, door scraping cavernously against the floor. Four men clad in stormy grey from head to toe filed into the center of the main chamber, and surveyed the Company arrayed before them. They gazed on with displeasure, until their eyes lighted upon Cassandra in particular. Their brows creased in anger, and one man in particular bellowed "Begone foul daedra! Thou shalt find no shelter here!"

Cassandra, in reply, collapsed upon the floor in dramatic fashion with an exaggerated sigh. "How did I know that this was going to happen? Come on Gray 1, I don't look that bad do I? You're with me on this, right Gray 2?" She asked, addressing one of the gray ones.

His brow twitched in irritation, and he began to inhale as though he were about to Shout. Vorald was quick to intervene before it could come to blows though, "I'm here to answer your summons Masters." He interjected.

"And yet, you bring this monster with you," Cassandra was meanwhile in the process of rolling upon the floor in a fitful manner. "Assuming that you are truly Dragonborn to begin with."

"She's offered her aid, and I am hardly in a position to deny her."

"Ouch. Vorald, that hurts. That hurts right here." She said, pounding upon her chest.

"And you, are not helping."

"And my pain continues. It is accentuated by the fact that Talos said he'd help when we got here, and has instead subjected me to this emotional torment. Does anybody have three deathbell flowers, a pair of leather boots, and a jester? I'd like to send a message."

The speaking Graybeard became steadily angered after the mention of Talos, until he eventually burst out at her. "How dare a being such as yourself speak of Talos in such a way! You have no right! Blasphemy!"

She stuck her tongue out at him, then ripping her dagger from her belt severed it and tossed it at him, smacking him upon the forehead. "Mmmhhmmhhm…" at this point the tongue regenerated itself within her mouth, "—had better watch your tongue in the future." Esmerelle and K'Shar, both newcomers, were much unnerved by the display while the others were just silently watching helplessly. Vorald alone was trying to diffuse the affair, but his pleas fell upon deaf ears.

"Get out. Now. All of you. We will only speak further with those of the Dragonblood." The speaker finalized angrily.

"Fine. Fine! I can see where I'm not wanted. Good luck Vorald, I'll probably come back at some point. I'll keep an eye or three on you." She made for the door, giving a half-wave of her hand with back turned, making for the door.

"That goes for the rest too! All of you, leave!" He shouted at them, beyond angry.

"But wait, I am the Dragonborn, I require training!" He cried out in desperation.

"This will be verified later! For now, you must all leave."

"But…" Vorald was cut off by the holy symbol of Talos branding the stone of the keep, suffusing through it with a divine golden light. The holy cross carved itself into the floor, stretching across the entrance room.

Suddenly, a voice penetrated through the minds of every person within the room. "YOU DARE TO TURN AWAY MY SERVANTS! I WAS NOT AWARE THE GRAYBEARDS HAD LOST ALL WISDOM IN THEIR MANY YEARS!"

Cassandra, standing near the threshold of the door, turned upon her heel. _ Talos, took you long enough. In hindsight I probably should've just not entered._

_No, you had people who would not be accommodated by them either. They just latched onto you because of your overshadowing the others._ He replied, more softly as he was addressing her directly—and privately.

"Lord Talos…" The speaking Graybeard spoke with awe in his voice, an awe mirrored in the faces of all present—Graybeard and member of the Company alike—but a seed of doubt began to grow, "Is it truly you? Not some trick of the daedra's?"

"No immortal being would ever use another's symbol. That's a transgression simply too great. Nope, he's the real deal." Cassandra said, her hands crossed above her chestplate.

"SHE IS CORRECT, MORTAL! YOU WILL TRAIN THE DRAGONBORN AND ACCOMADATE HIS ALLIES, OR YOU SHALL FACE MY WRATH!"

_Yeesh, tone it down a little. You don't have to boom so much. Or be so outwardly threatening._

_I…probably won't be able to do this again for a long time. I'm trying to maximize my effect before I'm ripped away by Akatosh._

"A-At once! Lord Talos!"

"I EXPECT YOU TO OFFER HIM EVERYTHING THAT HE REQUIRES! NOW!"

_That should do it. I've gotta go now, I hope that this helps to expedite things. _Talos whispered into the back of her mind. _Good luck._

_You too. I think I've got the better deal here._ There was no response on Talos' end.

"Well, you heard the big man. So, when can he start?" Cassandra spoke aloud, breaking the awestruck silence.

The Greybeards had tried to be accommodating in the following days, but they had neither food nor space for a group so large, so it was hardly what one might call "easy." Eventually it was decided that once a week two members of the group would have to descend the mountain to get more food, and the members of the group had laid their bed rolls upon the floor of one of the cavernous chambers found in High Hrothgar.

The Greybeards' training was…not what Vorald expected. It emphasized meditation, meditation, and more meditation. In the narrow halls, in the dark chambers of the fortress, in the spacious courtyard behind it, et cetera. They had yet to practice with any actual Shouts, and Vorald was beginning to become restless. This was met with even more meditation. Vorald's current lack of control over his dragon soul, Kruziikahsos, was the root of his trouble with the Voice. The meditation would help him to control his soul, and by controlling his soul he would be able to Shout more reliably…or so the Greybeards had said.

The others began to settle into a kind of routine. Esmerelle would ask questions of any in her general vicinity until she was sated, which only ever came after hours of unadulterated information, and was renewed with vigor not long after. To her credit, she knew when to leave an unresponsive subject alone, and to press her questions later. She and Runilus came to build a kind of rapport, they could talk for hours about subjects so convoluted that Vorald often wasn't sure what they were talking about. Gro'bak and Joneif spent most of their time fighting each other and performing exercises that would keep them in peak fighting condition. Often K'Shar would join them, and when Vorald was on leave from training he made sure to jump in as well. It was rather interesting to watch, the four of them together with their vastly different styles working to improve each other.

And then, there was Cassandra. There seemed to be something wrong, she would often be caught staring dimly at the same patch of grey on the wall for hours on end, then get up and walk aimlessly through the building, then sit back down. She appeared preoccupied, but with what none could fathom. And it did not help that despite tolerating her presence the Greybeards still gave her disdainful looks whenever they could see her.

One day, when she was particularly restless, she approached Vorald directly during his meditation in the courtyard. "Look, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna say it. I'm leaving."

Thankfully he was alone, because it was enough of a shock that he jumped to his feet, breaking the solemn meditation. "WHAT!" He cried out.

"I think it's for the best. The Greybeards are still nervous about me being here physically, best they don't have to deal with the distraction. More importantly though, I'm getting really bored." She replied nonchalantly.

"You can't just leave because you're bored!" He hissed at her.

"Vorald, have you ever heard the phrase 'method to the madness?'"

"And?" He asked incredulously.

"Well, that's it. Me being bored is a really bad idea because it will lead to worse ideas, ideas that might be disruptive to your training. No, it's best that I keep an eye on you, come back when needed, and in the meantime allow myself to cut loose rather than stew within a bleak and boring fortress."

"But, okay, fair point. Although you're the only thing that's keeping this eclectic band together! If you leave, they'll probably scatter to the winds."

"Then give them a reason to stay. That's also the last reason I have to leave. I came to Mundus to help guide you on your path, not to lead you. You rely on me too much, and you need to learn to carve your own path. Honestly, it's complete and utter _madness_ to allow _me_ to lead you along. So, I'm leaving, it's final, not listening to your reply." She cut him off as his mouth was hanging open, and then began to walk away. However, before she created any distance between them she stopped, and with her back turned said "Do try to learn some control over yourself while I'm gone. Prove you are worthy of carrying the dragon blood." And then she parted, and was soon gone from sight.

"Control huh? Control over what? My Shouts? This group? You? All of the above?" With a sigh, he tried to return to his meditations. He certainly had no shortage of things to consider after that conversation.

**A/N**

Well, just where has the time gone? I swear, at first I just needed some time off because I had a ton of homework as the semester was ending, and any free time was being devoted nearly exclusively to DA:I. But then, not writing this for a month combined with a general lack of productivity lead to a _bad_ case of writer's block that prevented me from doing this earlier. I would often think about doing it, a few times I would actually put down a few words, but for the most part there was no progress. The worst part is that because I kept thinking along the lines of "soon, but not now," I didn't announce anything about what was going on so I basically went dark. Now that I've gotten some motivation, I'm going to try making myself write nearly every night, to try to prevent such hiatuses in the future. I can't be sure how well it will hold up in the future, but here's hoping it will be something.

Also, don't worry about Cassandra. I've got plans. The next chapter should focus on her. It will go up the Saturday after this one, I'm going to try biweekly updates now to help with output.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Two Daedra Walk into a Bar,,,

Cassandra entered Ivarstead's inn to be met with a crackling fire, sharp and popping. The hearth seemed to blaze across the room, filling each corner of the building with its heat. The inn itself was devoid of people. Ivarstead was a small village that got little travel in the first place, and there weren't many people who were eager to visit the tavern in the early morning, the time it was when Cassandra had arrived. One might ask how in the plane of Mundus someone had descended the Throat of the World in less than an hour, but one would not be accounting for the fact that she was immortal. It was a simple matter to fling herself into the abyss, and then there was nothing but a short walk through the woods to make it the rest of the way.

Aside from the innkeeper, there was only one reveler seated at one of the tables cloaked in black, his uncut hair falling into his face and the stench of ale lingering permanently upon his breath.

Cassandra approached the bar. Extending her thumb and pinky out from her fist, she tilted her hand backward, mimicking the act of drinking. The barkeep was quick to respond, delivering her a bottle of warm ale. Uncorking it, she dumped its contents upon the floor, soaking the floorboards in the alcohol. "By the Eight! Just what do you think you're doing?!" The man shouted at her in rage.

Cassandra answered by flicking a couple septims his way. "Quiet. I'm not paying you to ask questions." She then pointed to the brown spill at her feet, "Now, clean that up." The man now had a tic above his eye he was so enraged. However, the black clad man from the corner stepped in to diffuse the situation. Unfortunately, that involved him throwing his arms around the two at the bar.

"Ah, you'll have to excuse my friend here Wilhelm. She's not altogether up here," he then proceeded to point to his head, "and she's even worse when she's tipsy."

The innkeeper glared at her a few seconds more, than began grumbling to himself as he went to fetch his cleaning supplies. The man stared at the floorboards, then sighed. "Such a waste of perfectly good ale Cass. I should call you Cass here right? You're looking good today."

"It was swill and you know it. Sam, I presume? What are you doing here?"

"Well, Akatosh was a bit distracted so I thought that I might have some fun while he's not paying attention. Of course, I didn't want to attract _too_ much attention, hence why I come as Sam Guevenne."

Cassandra snorted, then grimaced. "So, he's still yelling at Talos huh? That blows for him."

"Ah, cheer up! He'd want you to have some fun and luckily I come to bring it. Since you've ditched those mortals, you should just come adventure with me."

"I've only left them in body. The Wabbajack stays with them, and I'm keeping an eye on them as we speak. And I do plan to go back eventually."

"Well, in the meantime, what do you say we have a drinking contest! Come on, it'll be just like old times!" He swept his arms out with a flourish, but Cassandra looked doubtful.

"I dunno. The last time this happened I ended up in Mora's library without any pants. Or legs."

Sam burst out into laughter. "Oh-oh that was a good day."

Her response was to glare at him with a burning intensity that could melt diamonds. "Is this how you're going to try to convince me?"

He shrugged, "Do you have any reason why not?"

"Of course I do! But now that you mention it. Do I? Ah screw it, let's do this before I get the chance to regret it."

He grinned wolfishly at her upon the surrender, "Now that's what I like to hear! Come, Sheogorath. Let's spread some merriment!"

They exited the tavern, arms linked together as they sang the second verse of Ragnar the Red discordantly and extremely loudly. Their faces were rosy, and Cassandra had somehow lost sight of her equipment. They were both unarmed and unarmored, Cassandra clad in green clothing while Sam was still wearing his black robes. They began driving towards the farms in a drunk stupor, and when they arrived Cassandra got a brilliant idea. "'Ay. Saaaaam. I-I'm gon' burn these plants. I don't think the gourds are lookin' at me good."

"Thash a good idea Cass! Do it, 'fore the metal heads see ya."

She then summoned her meager magical talent and employed it to burn the offensive gourds. She was doing pretty well, before one of the Riften guards assigned to Ivarstead caught sight of her and approached with her sword drawn. "Halt! In the name of the people of Skyrim."

"Shit shit shit fuckshit! The metal heads are here Cass! Run!" Sam called out to her. The two then bolted away faster than a mere mortal encumbered by armor could run, leaving her boggled for a very long time as to how two people could run so fast.

The daedric duo before long encountered a camp set up in the Rift for the Imperial Legion. Seeing an opportunity, Sam decided to steal one of the swords from the armory. He then used his newly anointed carving knife to slash images of large-breasted nude women into the tents of the soldiers. Despite being drunk, he was able to utilize a surprising degree of skill. After all, he was doing two of his favorite things, drinking, and drawing naked women in public.

The camp was set up so efficiently that it took the Legion quite some time to realize what was going on as long as he did his work behind the tents. When they did, he decided that the perfect finishing touch of his latest work would be too stab the sword the pelvis of the woman, penetrating the tent. He then ran away cackling with the Legion's scouts following as quickly as they could.

"Real big of ya Sam. You…libertine." She then proceeded to stick her tongue out at him while dodging one of the arrows flying their way.

"Look who's talkin'. You…hypocrite." He replied while jumping two meters into the air to scale a boulder blocking his path.

"Look Sam! It's an abandomed-abandroned-an empty shack." Cassandra pointed out as they passed by the cabin in the woods. They had managed to evade the Imperials and continued to walk nowhere in particular.

"And?"

"We should investitrate!"

"Yes!"

Upon further inspection, they found a rather small room as well as a pretty extensive garden behind them, full of all kinds of herbs. And then, Sanguine found the bed.

"Hey Cass, what do you say we spend a little, extra, time here." He asked seductively while reclining languidly.

She smiled at him, "Let's wreck this shitty bed. And the walls. But, we've gotta do it all proper. Gimme a minute." She then rushed out of the room, and towards the garden they'd seen. She busied herself collecting several deathbell flowers and a single pair of boots from near the dresser within the hut. Then, shedding her clothing, she came to the bed. They lost several hours just like that.

"It is freezing here. Why did we come this way Sam? Why couldn't we have stayed in the nice, warm, forest?" They were passing through a narrow chasm, walled on either side by sheer cliffs. The light was beginning to fade as the dusk creeped onward.

"You're the one who felt like circling the mountain. Besides, I tried to warn you that clothes might help. Yet you insisted on leaving them behind. Not that I'm complaining of course, personally I enjoy the view."

Cassandra stood beside the man, fully exposed. "Eh, clothes are boring. Besides, you're not wearing any either."

"I also don't let the cold bother me like you do."

There was a small pause, before Cassandra spoke up again. "Ugh, I think you might have fucked me sober. Either that or we just spent a _really_ long time at that cabin if your specialty brew wore off."

"Yeah, it's wearing off for me too. I don't have any left, so I'll probably have to leave you for Oblivion soon."

"Speaking of, how is it that two daedric lords can engage in a full day's worth of mischief without Akatosh noticing and trying to stop us?"

"I'm as shocked as you are Cass. It's unprecedented."

"Damn. Now I feel really bad for Talos. He's been receiving Akatosh's undivided attention for _days_! I wonder if he'll even be allowed to talk to me after this."

"Probably not for a while. And in the meantime you can count on your good ole' friend Sanguine!"

"Not for this, sorry."

"Eh, fine. It's not like I care."

"My point exactly." Suddenly, she was distracted by a shape in the distance.

"Oh, is that a dog?" Sure enough, there was a gray blur against the rock wall not too far ahead, that upon closer inspection revealed itself to be a mangy dog. He looked up and became excited when he saw them, barking and wagging his tail, before rushing over to them.

"Well, if it ain't Sheogorath and Sanguine! Two of my absolute favorite immortal beings!"

Cassandra kneeled down and enveloped the dog into her arms, crying "Barbas! How ya been? Clavicus been treatin you all good?"

"Cass, why are you copying his ridiculous accent?"

"It ain't ridiculous! This is how I always talks. Anyways, I got a bit of a favor to ask."

"Yes?" Cassandra asked.

"Well, ya see, Clavicus and I are havin a bit of a fight ya see. An he _refuses_ to talk to me. Perhaps ya guys can help a poor ol mutt out."

"Of course!" Cassandra declared emphatically.

Sam merely shrugged his shoulders, as if to say "why not?"

"So, Barbas, where are we going to?"

"Well, it ain't far from here. Little place by the name of Haemar's Shame. So you'll come with me then?"

"Lead on little doggy!"

Barbas lead onward, Cassandra in tow and Sam following behind them. They came not silently, as the lot of Princes were engaged in lively and animated discussions. This did not work out well for them, as it seemed that Haemar's Shame had a small case of vampire infestation. But then, how much trouble could a couple of immortals really get into?

Cassandra ran up to the first vampire she saw and punched her in the face. And then again. And then a third time. And then, just for good measure, kicked her between the legs. Angered, the vampire retaliated by sinking her teeth into Cassandra's exposed flesh, then almost immediately began coughing up blood and slowly disintegrated as the blood burned her from the inside out. "Sam, these guys are just mongrels. A _real_ vamp would've been able to take it."

Unfortunately, Sam could not hear her as he was busy trying to seduce the vampire who had decided to attack him with her dagger, having learned her lesson about vampiric tricks from her comrade Cassandra had felled. "So, I know that we've got our differences now, but I just have to say that you are the most beautiful vampire I've ever seen." She thrust her dagger towards his face, but he dodged left. "Do you really want to fight us and mar your pretty face?" Dodge to the right. "Why don't you just lay down your arms, and we can have a little fun-" quick duck beneath her thrust "you and I." Suddenly inspired, she grasped Sanguine's manhood and, unable (and unwilling) to run, there was nothing to stop her from severing it at the base. She laughed aloud, staring upon his frozen with shock features as she tossed aside his junk and prepared for a killing blow. Then his face became clouded with an unspeakable rage. "Now that. Was. _Fucking_. RUDE! You die now, bloodsucking whore." Her blade pierced his heart. Then, he raised his hand, armed with flame, and cast a spell that enveloped the both of them in a consuming blaze. The only difference was, a purple light would restore Sanguine perfectly unscathed, and one would be hard-pressed to even find her ashes.

But, in the end, it was Barbas that did most of the work as he was the most serious of the trio. No easy feat, considering that he was one dog armed with nothing but claw and fang. And immortality. That helped too.

They continued in similar fashion throughout the cave, eventually reaching an altar dedicated to Clavicus himself. Here, there was a full host of vampires, at least a dozen, and all fairly powerful. Even so, they were no match at all for the daedra. Sam summoned a dremora, Cassandra a mazken, and they seemed more occupied with stabbing each other in the back then fighting the vampires. This lead to infighting between Cassandra and Sam as well, a full fist-fight only broken when either their servant was banished, due to injury or a lack of focus on their part, and they had to summon another, or because a vampire came so close they decided to take their frustration out on the nearest outlet. Again, Barbas was forced to do most of the work.

As the last of the vampires fell, Sam reared back his fist to let loose another punch, but Cassandra raised her palm in a placating gesture. "Sam, I don't like fighting like this. Let's just forget all about 'who called who a rancid skeever tail' and let bygones be bygones. Here, let's mess with Clavicus' statue."

Sam laughed with her, then said "Let's paint his face red."

An hour or two later the two were finally finished, and had seated themselves before Clavicus' shrine like naughty children caught stealing candy from the top shelf.

"SHEOGORATH! SANGUINE! Just what are you doing here anyway?!"

"Well, we were passing by and ran into Barbas. He said that you were having a bit of a fight, so I figured—pfff—sorry, I figured that I-HAHAHA—I might have been able to help." It was a bit hard to take him seriously when he was splattered with blood. And a statue.

"BARBAS! That little mutt is responsible for you defacing my shrine?!" A reader might think that Clavicus was only referring to the new "paint" he had gotten on him. He was not. Well, not mainly. After the two had finished, despite Clavicus' loud protests, they had begun doodling upon his statue. With carving knives lifted from dead vampires. The depictions were crude, the product of madness and debauchery working in tandem.

"HEY!" Cassandra stood up, animated now, "Don't blame your dog! It's not his fault we're such geniuses with great ideas! Besides, he's at least in my top ten, no, wait, my top twenty favorite people. So shut up number one hundred fifty two."

If Clavicus were present in physical form, his brow would be twitching.

"Fine, you want to help that damnable cur, be my guest. But first, you must make a deal. Retrieve a special axe from Rimerock Burrow for me. Barbas can show the way. Then I'll grant you whatever you want this time."

Cassandra stared blankly for several minutes, betraying no emotion, while Sam just leaned back casually. When it was apparent that she was not answering, Clavicus prompted her. "Well?" He asked.

"Hmm. Where would this place be?"

"In the North-West. Near Solitude."

"Oh, then no."

"WHAT!" Barbas cried out.

"I'm a very busy Daedra. I don't have time to go all the way to Solitude and back. So, no."

"What if you only had to go one way?" Sam asked her.

"Hmm. Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"I think I'm going to leave soon. I can drop you off on the way to Oblivion wherever you'd like."

"You're leaving already?" She asked, slightly disappointed.

"Yeah, time with you is always educational Cass. I've got so many things that I want to try with the concubines now. So, one delivery to a Rimerock Burrow near Solitude?"

"Two please. Me and Barbas."

Purple light enveloped the three of them, leaving the statue of Clavicus Vile behind. 'Great. And I'm still just a statue. And stuck. And now there's nobody left here. Nothing to do and nowhere to go. Damn it all.'

**A/N**

So, a while ago I got a PM from one Legatus70 with the suggestion that I have Cassandra and Sanguine do Clavicus Vile's quest. It seemed like a pretty good idea, so I went with it, and this seemed like a good place to add it. A bit of a side adventure in the first place, but hopefully entertaining.

As far as the scene in the abandoned cabin is concerned, I hope I didn't exceed any triggers. But you know, this is Sanguine we're talking about here. He seems to have a knack for bringing out the worst in me.

I know that Barbas is encountered in Falkreath, but he leads you to Haemar's Shame, so for the sake of proximity he starts out a little bit closer to home. So to speak. Also, I recently played the Clavicus Vile mission and I think that Barbas' voice is hilarious. Despite text not being able to translate accents super well, I've tried to give him that north-eastern American accent.

Finally, something that is irrelevant to this chapter but must be said, Esmerelle introduced in the last update is a member of the College of Winterhold. How I neglected to mention that, I don't know. I'm now correcting that error on my part though, before it becomes important.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Sitting. Waiting.

Vorald was standing in the center of the courtyard, ringed by the Greybeards. His task? To remain as still as possible. He was a disciplined warrior, but remaining perfectly still is no easy feat, and he began to feel his blood boil. Suddenly, he became acutely aware of the painfully cold temperature, and it began to gnaw away at him. Finally, he felt the familiar energy building up, and expelled the power of the Thu'um. "SHUL-SU-LOK!" The cold air dissipated upon his spell.

He glanced up at Master Arngeir, who shook his head solemnly. "As always, Dragonborn, your command of the Thu'um is impressive. Yet you lack the control and discipline that can only be attained by years, decades, of mental training. In a way, you are disadvantaged by the ease with which you utilize the Thu'um. You are more easily cast astray." He sighed. "You have improved in the past few weeks, more than any could have anticipated. I will grant this. Begin again."

"Master, how much longer do I have to train? Alduin is still out there."

"I am aware, but I cannot in good conscience release you upon Tamriel as you are now."

"But when can you release me? This is a pressing matter. Only the end of all days."

"When you are ready and no sooner. Do not allow yourself to be taken by impatience. Now, begin again." Arngeir was beginning to become angry, and Vorald had no choice but to heed his words, and begin again his meditations.

* * *

K'Shar glared at the goblet upon the table, before lifting the staff in his hands and taking careful aim. A red orb began to build up, and the daedric orb launched, causing a scruffy dog to appear sitting on the table, gazing into K'Shar's eyes while panting. He shot it again, making it morph into an angry dremora that came charging at him like rampaging cattle. K'Shar leapt away and shot it in the faceplate, causing it to transform into coins that exploded outward, clattering against the walls and ceiling, as well as pelting him. Hearing a coughing from the doorway, he caught sight of Gro'bak observing him.

"Sooo, do I even want to know?" He asked sardonically.

K'Shar rolled his shoulders lazily, "I was bored. This thing is fun." He then waved the Wabbajack in front of him.

"Yeah, fun and dangerous. I still don't know why she left you with that."

"Aww, you still don't trust me?"

Gro'bak snorted in derision, "I know you're not stupid enough to actually piss her off. Or stupid enough to aid in ending the world. Especially if she can find a way to reach you." He gestured towards the Wabbajack as he finished his statement. "But regardless, you're not really the trustworthy sort."

"Yeah, I get that." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, I'm a little bored at the moment. Got anything that we could do?"

"I have books, although I doubt that you were particularly interested in that."

"Yeeeah. No thanks. Got any cards though?"

"Well, that sounds like it might be fun."

* * *

"Riveting conversation Joneif." Runilus spoke as they continued their ascent.

"Urrghh." Joneif grunted in reply.

It was their turn to fetch supplies. They had heard from Esmerelle and Gro'bak from their first supply run that Cassandra had (predictably) gotten into quite a bit of trouble while gone. Apparently, she was wanted in Riften for vandalism, as well as by the Imperial Legion for being an "accomplice" to theft and vandalism of legionnaire property. The group tried not to think about it too much.

Luckily, no trip had been nearly as dangerous as the first ascent. No dragons had pestered them, and most of the dangerous monsters had been taken care of the first time. Besides, none were difficult to kill; their chief danger had always been in fighting them in the confined space of the thin and wispy mountain trail.

The two finally crested the ridge seating the grey fortress, erected in stark contrast to the sky. Bridging the threshold, they made their way towards the quarters of the group. Esmerelle appeared in their vision, and came towards them. "Runilus! You're finally back!" She exclaimed,

He cracked a smile, then acknowledged, "Yes, I am. How have you been?"

"Well, I've had a lot I wanted to talk about. I had an idea about how one might reflect magicka attacks, and was wondering if you could help me with testing."

"Well, I'd be happy to help however I can." She grabbed his wrist and began leading him outdoors. Joneif watched them go as he went to place the supplies, and groaned.

* * *

Joneif entered the room they had taken residence within, and found that all the others had gathered for supper already. Lumbering over, he fell into a chair and began tearing at the food that he could get his hands on. Conversation had recommenced, largely without his notice, chiefly on the subject of Esmerelle.

"She did run out in a hurry. Wonder what she and Whiny are up to?" K'Shar asked

"Probably working magic with each other. Does it really matter though? It's not really our business." Vorald spoke out.

"You, my friend, have no respect for the time-honored tradition of 'the gossip.' Entire nations have crumbled over what one noble said to another at a soirée."

"Of course I have no respect for it. I'm no bloody housewife or childish idiot."

"Whatever. The fact remains that those two have been spending quite a bit of time together. And it will be fun to watch them, mark my words. Actually, don't mark them, take Dog's word for it. Right big guy, you'll back me up?"

Joneif, thusly acknowledged, was forced to look up. "What?"

"Are the girl and Whiny, well—how to put this in terms that an animal like you would understand—are they mating?"

""No. But they want to."

"Well there you go! I'm right."

Vorald just looked at him blankly. "What is your problem? Are blood and sex the only things that you can think about? Whether they were interested in each other wasn't even what we were talking about."

"What, you're saying you've noticed it?"

"_Everyone_ has. You're just wasting our time. And you didn't answer the question."

"Well, forgive me for trying to make conversation. That elf sure is a lucky bastard, and he doesn't even reali—"

"Alright, forget it," Vorald interrupted, standing up, "We're fighting, now. Come outside. After that conversation I need to hit something and you might as well be it."

* * *

Runilus concentrated the magical energy into a ball of flame, and then hurled it at Esmerelle, quickly taking cover. Unfortunately, the hit broke her ward and singed her arm. "Shit." She hissed out, gripping her arm in pain and quickly applying healing magic. The burn began to fade, and in less than a minute she looked as good as new and was ready to start again.

"I'm so sorry, if it's too hot—"

"No. Make it hotter if you can. I'm fine, and I think I'm maybe getting good at this."

"You truly are a marvel. The speed with which you heal injury, as well as your capability to sustain it are extremely impressive."

Some rose-coloring entered her cheeks and she became a bit flustered, "Oh, um, thanks. You're pretty amazing yourself. It's really difficult to find anyone with the skill that you have, so I want to be able to push my spells to the limit."

"Well, I thank you for your praise." He said, a bit of a nervous edge creeping through his voice. "Well, I suppose we should start again?"

"At once, ye—" She was cut off by a fireball sailing past her head, causing her to duck down and get a glimpse of Runilus' smug face.

"You ass!" She shouted, though playfully as a look at the attack's trajectory showed it would never have hit her.

"You did say 'at once.'"

"So I did." They gazed upon each other, as if entranced, before Esmerelle shook herself out of it and placed up her ward, silently asking Runilus to throw another attack at her. This time, her ward absorbed the fire briefly, glowing a smoldering red. Then, it dissolved and released the flame in a brilliant explosion, knocking her backwards from the force.

"Esmerelle, this seems hazardous to your health." Runilus felt obliged to say.

"Yes, yes, I get it. But I've almost got it, I'm sure!"

"That's what you said the last five times." She glared at him briefly, then put up her ward. He launched a fireball at her, and her ward absorbed it, becoming engulfed in flame. Then, she was able to direct the ward towards the mountain below, and launched the fire captured in her ward in a concentrated beam, melting the snow beneath them. She paused to stick out her tongue at Runilus, then raised a ward for continued practice and experimentation.

* * *

The four men fell against the wall of the temple, panting heavily.

"You know what? I get really tired this high up." Vorald stated.

"Yeah, the higher you go, the thinner the air becomes. You've gotta breathe harder up here." Gro'bak informed him.

"Really? That sounds pretty useful for training. We should do some more exercises after we've caught our breath."

"Hey, Dragonborn? How much longer do we have to stay up here? I mean, I get that you're busy but it would be nice if we could get a change of pace." K'Shar shouted out.

"I don't fucking know. The Greybeards just go on and on about how I am not worthy. It's anybody's guess when they'll decide I'm ready to leave."

"It seems that you still require patience, Dovahkin." Arngeir spoke, sending a shock down Vorald's spine.

"Master! I am terribly sorry, I spoke out of turn—"

"Never mind that. You seek to leave? How impertinent. But, perhaps we have detained you for too long. Still, I hesitate to allow you to leave."

"I understand, Master." Vorald replied, a little dejectedly as he felt his wanderlust being crushed beneath Arngeir's words.

"But, perhaps we might devise some tests. To ascertain whether you might be ready to leave or not. We will return to you."

Arngeir turned upon his heel, going back indoors while Vorald still had his reply sitting upon his tongue. "Well, that just happened."

"Look on the brightside! We may get to leave soon!" K'Shar exclaimed enthusiastically.

"If he passes the tests those old humans can think up cat." Joneif replied.

"Well, don't you know how to spoil my fun."

Vorald shook his head and sighed heavily at their interaction, before deciding that he had better get some sleep while he had the chance.

* * *

The Greybeards stood in a ring about Vorald in the courtyard, the afternoon light shading their faces. "Well, Dovahkin. Let us hear the power of your voice. Be not afraid, I can assure you that we will not be harmed." Arngeir stated.

Vorald was a bit startled that they were being so straightforward for once. He decided that he would need force to show off his power to them. There was really only one choice. "FUS-RO-DAH!" He Shouted, staggering the Greybeards caught within the range of his attack.

They righted and composed themselves, and Arngeir stepped forward. "Again."

So, Vorald blasted them again. With the same effects. And again. And again. And again. But Arngeir would not quit, he would not allow Vorald to leave. He became steadily more and more frustrated with each successive blast that drained a little more of his strength. It did not help that each Shout also devoured some of his spirit, making him even angrier and more frustrated. _Yes, that's it. Be angry. Who are these joor to play dov._ His dragon soul was whispering in the back of his mind, making his attacks stronger and more brutal. The Greybeards continued to weather it all, withstanding the effects easily, maintaining the same calm composure.

Vorald's rage continued to build, before he exploded. "I've done everything you asked! Can you just tell me whether I've failed or not! Do you plan to be out here all night! Why are you wasting so much time!"

Arngeir simply gave him a disparaging look and spoke nine, short, simple syllables. "Dovahkin, have you learned nothing?"

Vorald became enraged at the patronizing attitude of Arngeir, and considered showing him just what he'd learned personally. But then, something clicked. _Did_ the Greybeards plan to be out here all night? And what had he done since arriving anyway, meditate, meditate, and meditate. This was a test of patience, and not of skill, or even power. He took a deep, cleansing breath, releasing all of the anger pent up in his body in small waves, slowly, yet surely. After he had taken several minutes to compose himself, Arngeir whispered, "Again."

Vorald responded calmly, but resolutely. "FUS-RO-DAH!" On this particular occasion, the Greybeard was sent flying from him, to land in the snow several meters away.

"You truly do grow at a quick rate, Dovahkin. What you have just experienced is a small taste of the power that can be acquired from meditation. If you remember to stay calm, you will be able to access far greater power and exert far greater control than when under the influence of emotion. I believe that you may be ready to go and learn for yourself in the world at large."

"Thank you, Master. I will return for more guidance, I am sure."

"Indeed. We do, however, have one final test to ask of you, that you travel to the fain of Ustengrav and retrieve the war horn of our founder, Jurgen Windcaller. When you return with the horn, you may count on our full cooperation when time may demand it."

"Wait, I thought Talos commanded you to aid me anyway."

"Indeed. And if you pass this test you will be deemed worthy of rendering aid to. I am sure that Talos understands the need to ensure that you will not try to harm us."

"Very well, Master. I suppose that it's as good a place to start as any. We'll depart shortly, and you may have your castle back to yourselves.\

**A/N**

The Runilus/Esmerelle thing might've seemed a little too abrupt here, with the others commenting on it. But, they've been in isolation for several weeks, I just sort of time skipped over it to avoid spending too long up here. As you might have noticed from the quality of the chapter, it was difficult to write what they were doing while covering everything I needed/wanted to cover and making it interesting to read.

Oh, and sorry if you thought this was boring as compared with the previous chapter. But, needed to be said here, and now. Next chapter is Cassandra centric.

Dragon language translations

SHUL-SU-LOK: Sun-Air-Sky


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Solo Adventures

When Cassandra arrived outside of Rimerock Burrow, it was midday, and Barbas was beside her. A shoddy wooden bridge lead to a crevice that could only be the cave, divided from the road by a fissure. To her left was a steep cliff that rose upward several feet, and to her right was the rest of the cliff, falling to the sea below. The sun was glinting above, reflecting off of the pale winter waters to create a breathtaking image.

Looking down, Cassandra was surprised to find herself clothed. A black robe that fell about her ankles was covering her, and beside her was a simple bow with a quiver beside it, as well as a dagger. However, as the present was ostensibly from Sanguine it was hardly anything near full coverage. At her legs there were slits upon either side of the robe that exposed her legs when she walked, and the torso made certain to accentuate her breasts and reveal as much cleavage as possible. Her black hair fell in her face, removed from its braid to fall freely, and at her wrists she found fingerless gloves made of a thin substance that stretched to her elbows, and on her feet were a pair of boots that had a weave of lace wrapping around her ankles and shins. Ruffling through the robe's pockets, she found a note hidden within:

_Sheogorath,_

_ I wish you well on your journey. Now that I'm no longer here to enjoy your company, I figured I might as well provide some clothing for you. Mortals can quite unsettled when confronted with the fully unclothed after all. I also provided you with a weapon I know you favor. Personally I don't know how you and Hircine can handle such mundane and tedious armament. But I digress._

_ Remember that I created the robe with my power and it can protect you with my power. Although perhaps you may wish to reclaim your gear at that inn in Ivarstead, assuming they'll keep it. Still, you should hang onto my gift, just in case._

_ Furthermore, I apologize for leaving like that. I may decide to drop in here or there. Still not really sure. But we'll stay in touch. It sounds like you might need someone to be able to turn to, what with Talos being in trouble, and I'd be more than happy to oblige when I'm not too busy._

_Listen, if I'm being perfectly serious and honest, Alduin doesn't know what he's dealing with. But then again, neither do you. Just stay safe, I'd hate to lose such a good drinking buddy. Especially one who's willing to get as dirty as you are._

_-Sanguine._

"Aw, he does care." Cassandra stated quasi-mockingly.

* * *

"So, are we gonna charge in at any minute now!" Barbas asked excitedly, looking forward to the prospect of reunion with his master.

"Just wait a gods-damned minute Barbas! We can't do anything before picnicking in this place!"

"Ahm sorry, but, what was that?!"

"I'm hungry. Stay right here, I'll be back." She snatched her bow before melting into the woodwork without giving Barbas a chance to reply. She stalked through the forest, searching carefully in the dirt and the bushes for signs of her game. Bent over, creeping slowly and carefully studying the signs, she finally found something she was looking for—a footprint! She located the trail and followed it, eventually reaching a small clearing bordered by the bank of a river. She could see a pair of large ears poking upward, and quietly notched an arrow. Drawing the bow, she let the arrow sail through the air, and the animal fell with a soft thud. Hoisting her prey, she returned to Barbas, and then threw it to him.

"What is it?"

"Food, you go ahead and eat, I'm not really hungry."

"I ain't hungry neither!"

"Barbas. Eat. The. Bunny. I worked really hard to catch it."

"I didn't ask you to or nothing!" Cassandra glared at him, and so he complied.

"Why a rabbit though?"

"Eh, it's just a fixation of mine. I really should vary it up a bit though. Anyway, we should really get into that cave. We've been burning daylight while you've been snacking."

"That's what I kept telling ya!" But Cassandra had already walked away, and wasn't listening to his exclamation. "Ah, forget about it."

* * *

Cassandra stepped into the dark cave, feeling the temperature drop as she did. She crept along the tunnel quietly, Barbas following upon her heel, with not a sound but the dripping of water. Gradually, though, the corridor began to lighten, and it opened out into a large cavern illuminated by torchlight emanating from a flaming atronach. Cassandra could hear the low mutterings of a man looming over a stone table on an elevated platform.

_That there's Sebastian Lort. He's the guy who's got the Rueful Axe right now._ Barbas whispered into her mind, _He got it when he—_

_That's great Barbas. So I should just ask him for it then?_

_WHAT! No! That's a really bad idea!_

"Yo! Sebastian! Clavicus wants his axe back!" The man was so unbelievably stunned by her booming shout that he leapt forward…directly into the table. Collapsing upon it. The next thing that she knew after the hilarious sight was the sensation of her face peeling off, as the atronach had responded in kind. It was hardly a pleasant sensation, and she was rather angry after the regeneration.

"Alright. I'm going to cut your face off now." With superhuman speed, she ascended the steps and drew her dagger, standing above the still recovering man. Pausing with the blade poised high above her head, she began the downswing, before being thrown aside by the flame atronach. She quickly took stock of herself, and found that she was completely unwounded, the robe having blocked the attack completely.

Sebastian stood now, and gauging him she saw some dangerous looking cuts covering his back, which he quickly applied healing magic too. Before she could capitalize on his disadvantage though, his flame atronach stepped forward and began launching fireballs at her. She leapt to the left, then rolled forward toward the right, then performed a backstep to evade the fireball at her feet, before leaping forward again. Slowly, but surely, she proceeded forwards, dodging left and right. Her task was made more difficult when Sebastian finished healing and decided to help, and now she was forced to dodge ice spikes in addition to the fireballs. Her progress was now halted, but neither of her assailants were counting upon Barbas charging up while they were distracted and tackling Sebastian to the ground. Capitalizing on the confusion, Cassandra grasped her dagger, and took aim. Sailing through the air, the dagger pierced through the atronach's skull, causing the lesser daedra to disintegrate. Meanwhile, Barbas was in the process of finishing off Sebastian on the ground.

Cassandra dusted herself off, surprised at how well her clothing had resisted damage, the fabric appearing rather unscathed. Surveying the platform, she saw an arcane enchanter in the corner in addition to the table Sebastian had fallen upon. Enshrined on the surface of the table was a massive black battleaxe, with some fresh blood dripping from the edge. The weapon had apparently sliced Sebastian when he landed on the table.

"So! Barbas, is this what we're looking for?"

"Yep. That right there is the one and only Rueful Axe."

Cassandra hefted the large weapon, judging it in her hands. "Alright then. Let's get going."

* * *

"This thing is so…big." Cassandra twirled the Rueful Axe, and attepted to swing it a few times, only for the edge to swing close to the ground. "I wonder how Vorald deals with it. The weight is so imbalanced and awkward." She gave a few more swings, hitting trees and causing them to splinter as she went. "It is powerful though."

"Would ya please cut it out! I'm trying to walk here!" Barbas shouted as the axe nearly hit him on one of her swings.

Paying no heed, Cassandra was twirling the axe above her head when it slipped out of her grasp and went flying into the woods. Cassandra ran to try and catch it, and retrieved it quickly, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "So, Barbas, how much longer til we're back?"

"I'd say we have several weeks ahead of us."

"Ugghhh! That's so loooong! Here, you carry the axe. I was tired of the stupid thing anyway."

"Sheogorath?"

"Yes?"

Barbas held up one of his forepaws. "No opposable thumbs."

"Shit, I forgot. But I'm already so bored!"

"Come on, we oughta hurry it up here. I gotta reunite with Clavicus."

"This is going to go well, I can already see it.

**A/N**

I procrastinated on this chapter, so I didn't really have time to send it to my beta. In fact, I plan to update the moment that I'm finished writing. I actually missed the update day, due to technical difficulties. And this chapter is too short, but I decided that I needed to cut it here to avoid useless filler. Yeah, I'm sorry on many counts for this, but I hope it's decent despite that. My apologies if it lacks in quality, or if any inconsistencies got worked in under the radar.


End file.
